Due to recent drama/hilarity/I-don’t-even-know-what-the-hell-to-call-it-at-this-point at my second, part-time job, I’ve decided to start another writing exercise for myself. Also a memory one, as some of this is probably going to hurt to try and remember. 😉
♦ Admittedly this first one is going to be more boring introductory crap than anything else. Oops. Down the road this will be full of true stories that have happened to me at my jobs, with maybe a little choice wording to spice it up a tad. They’ll range anywhere from long to short, depending on events and how well I can recall them.
Disclaimer: the majority of my coworkers are/were fuckin’ crazy.
I’ve had nine (that I can remember, anyway) different part-time jobs (and three internships) in the span of about five/six years, starting from when I was 16. (I technically started working at 14, but that job had such minimal hours I scarcely count the time I started it.) I’m now 23 working full-time as well as a part-time job on the side.
- ‘Assistant’ for a chiropractor (filing/cleaning–this is that first, minimal-hours job)
- Worked there approx. 7/8 years
- Banquet Server at a hotel (first ‘real’ job at 16)
- Worked there approx. 10 months? Ish?
- Data Entry/part organization at a trailer manufacturer
- Worked there 3 months – summer job
- Cleaning Service (outsourced to an electric company)
- 6 months-ish again? (Memory–you fickle…)
- Phone sales-person (was SUPPOSED to help with web design)
- 6 months-ish – dunno if they even took me out of their system, ha-ha
- Cashier/Sales-person/other random duties in retail X 3.1
- Job one: electronics/tech/phone sales, approx. 7 months (store closed, boo-hoo)
- Job two: dollar store, approx. 6 months
- Job three: gaming/etc. store, will be 5 years in April
Doesn’t add up to nine, does it? Probably because that .1 is a job I had for, not even shitting you, literally a day. It should probably be .001 if anything (a decimal place for each place in the amount of days for the year and–oops, I nerded).
I sat in for a day of video-watching training, got my required-to-wear shirt for the job and a name tag, and left that day not exactly happy about working there but thankful I had a job (one that would pay better and more than the ‘assistant’ job). It was April of 2011, and I’d be graduating high school soon and going to university–I’d need that cash.
I then got a call from another job I’d applied and interviewed for (and wanted SO much more than the .1) saying that I was basically hired, and could I come in in a few days to do some training? I was ecstatic and said yes, yes, of course I could. I’d been waiting for weeks to hear from this job, and had even called/stopped by to check in with them to see if they’d made a decision on who to hire. Their continued radio silence was why I’d applied to the .1 job at all.
I’d warned the .1 job that I had applied elsewhere, and that I really wanted to work at this other place, and they understood completely when I called later and told them I had received said job and wouldn’t be working for them anymore.
I felt like a total dick, and took a measly sum from .1 job for the minimal training I’d gone through. I still have my name tag, somewhere. As a reminder that I am, in fact, a right ol’ douche-canoe.
But I had the job I wanted! Huzzah! This job I’d received in April of 2011 is cashier job three from above, and the current part-time job I still have today. And let me tell you, it’s been one hell of a ride, and the primary source of my stories to inspire this new thing of writing known as “Adventures in Retail.” (‘Cause that’s original.)
So this is the start. Some boring background that kind-of leads in to what becomes the rest of my part-time career. Some of the stories I have are interesting, some are boring, and some are unbelievable but undoubtedly (sadly) true.
I will do my best to recall what happened in a way that can hopefully be entertaining for those reading it. I know it was entertaining for me. Sometimes. Depended. But we’ll get to that.
Also I apologize for my heavy use of parenthesis. I have a problem.