New Beginnings? It's a Process
This evening my mother and I went to the open house of a cute little dwelling on the street I grew up on. Why did we go, you ask? That's a good question. I don't have a job, and I have no savings to speak of, yet I took a look at the type of home I would love to start out in with my little Pepsi.
The back yard was a great size and full of potential. It was even fenced in on three sides. Inside the house were original wood floors, a cute little kitchen, laundry room, two little bedrooms, a nicely sized living room, and a good amount of charm. I could picture myself living there, making the place my own, occupying my free time with little fix-its and personalizations around my little home. As I looked around I was making mental notes of what changes I would make and how I would decorate knowing full well there was no way I could pay for a place of my own right now.
It seems odd to a lot of people when I tell them that, a year out of high school, I don't even have a minimum wage job at a burger joint, I don't go to college, and I rarely pay for my keep. Most don't understand that I'm the kind of person that literally can't handle the kind of work that just pays the bills. I hate greeting customers, I hate pretending that I know what I'm doing at the register while I'm in a complete panic inside my head. I am not a customer service kind of person.
I have had two jobs in my life other than working for my father. The first was at my town's KFC/Taco Bell when I was a junior in hight school. I applied there because my sister's boyfriend told me he and I would likely be on the same shift and he would train me. It turned out that wasn't the case. The manager put he and I on seperate shifts, and that was my first inkling of regret. My first day of work took place after school. I had expected a few hours of training, learning the ropes, getting familiar with the job, and then going home. I ended up working an 8-hour shift and only a couple of those hours were for mediocre training. I was left at the lone register by myself, unable to answer customers' questions, usually stuck standing there looking for someone to show me which buttons to push. It was so embarrassing, so scary, and honestly traumatizing. I quit before the month was up because I couldn't handle the 8-hour shifts every school day and the lack of support from my managers and co-workers.
My second "real" job was at Mead Lumber the summer after I graduated. I was hired as a kind of fill in so when one of the two front clerks went to lunch, the other wouldn't be alone to handle the customers. I felt a little pressure to take this job since I no longer had school and really had no excuse to not be working. I also thought the job wouldn't be so bad because my dad, being a carpenter, makes frequent stops to the store. I was wrong.
Once again, though the two women I worked with were nice, I was poorly trained. Since Mead Lumber obviously has a lumber yard, there were many times that I had no product to ring up, but instead needed to enter codes for the materials out back. The problem was that I was never told of an index, never taught codes to memorize, and was often left at the counter alone. I was fine if I was given the task of dusting or mixing paint because there was nothing I needed to punch in and no customers that I had to pretend I knew what I was talking about to. But there was a breaking point.
One day, maybe my fifth work day, only one of the other two women was working along with me. Since she had a full shift, she had a lunch hour, but that meant I would be all alone at the only desk in the front of the store. By myself. Even though I was hired just so the other two employees wouldn't be alone over lunch. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do because I knew no codes, and wasn't familiar enough with the store to help customers, and there was no one to help me. I went home that evening and cried. A couple days later I quit.
I'm sure the majority of you that are reading this are thinking, wow, this girl is a baby. She should have just sucked it up and gotten through it. Believe me, I told myself to do that, but I just couldn't. A few months later I was diagnosed as a depressive. I am being treated for my anxious tendancies and mild inability to cope with unfamiliar surroundings. I think I might be able to get back to the job scene soon.
It so happens that I was searching jobs in my area on the internet and found a listing for a vet assistant in my town. Exactly the kind of job I think I would do best at. I'm still scared of the unknown though, I don't even know which clinic the opening is at yet. I forced myself, after three days of going back and forth in my mind between fear and logic, to email Nebraska Work Force and look into the position. I really think I could be happy with a job like this. At least, happier than at a job as a grocery store clerk. I really hope it works out so that I can just try it and not chicken out.
Maybe then I can get that cute house for myself and my little Pepsi.
The back yard was a great size and full of potential. It was even fenced in on three sides. Inside the house were original wood floors, a cute little kitchen, laundry room, two little bedrooms, a nicely sized living room, and a good amount of charm. I could picture myself living there, making the place my own, occupying my free time with little fix-its and personalizations around my little home. As I looked around I was making mental notes of what changes I would make and how I would decorate knowing full well there was no way I could pay for a place of my own right now.
It seems odd to a lot of people when I tell them that, a year out of high school, I don't even have a minimum wage job at a burger joint, I don't go to college, and I rarely pay for my keep. Most don't understand that I'm the kind of person that literally can't handle the kind of work that just pays the bills. I hate greeting customers, I hate pretending that I know what I'm doing at the register while I'm in a complete panic inside my head. I am not a customer service kind of person.
I have had two jobs in my life other than working for my father. The first was at my town's KFC/Taco Bell when I was a junior in hight school. I applied there because my sister's boyfriend told me he and I would likely be on the same shift and he would train me. It turned out that wasn't the case. The manager put he and I on seperate shifts, and that was my first inkling of regret. My first day of work took place after school. I had expected a few hours of training, learning the ropes, getting familiar with the job, and then going home. I ended up working an 8-hour shift and only a couple of those hours were for mediocre training. I was left at the lone register by myself, unable to answer customers' questions, usually stuck standing there looking for someone to show me which buttons to push. It was so embarrassing, so scary, and honestly traumatizing. I quit before the month was up because I couldn't handle the 8-hour shifts every school day and the lack of support from my managers and co-workers.
My second "real" job was at Mead Lumber the summer after I graduated. I was hired as a kind of fill in so when one of the two front clerks went to lunch, the other wouldn't be alone to handle the customers. I felt a little pressure to take this job since I no longer had school and really had no excuse to not be working. I also thought the job wouldn't be so bad because my dad, being a carpenter, makes frequent stops to the store. I was wrong.
Once again, though the two women I worked with were nice, I was poorly trained. Since Mead Lumber obviously has a lumber yard, there were many times that I had no product to ring up, but instead needed to enter codes for the materials out back. The problem was that I was never told of an index, never taught codes to memorize, and was often left at the counter alone. I was fine if I was given the task of dusting or mixing paint because there was nothing I needed to punch in and no customers that I had to pretend I knew what I was talking about to. But there was a breaking point.
One day, maybe my fifth work day, only one of the other two women was working along with me. Since she had a full shift, she had a lunch hour, but that meant I would be all alone at the only desk in the front of the store. By myself. Even though I was hired just so the other two employees wouldn't be alone over lunch. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do because I knew no codes, and wasn't familiar enough with the store to help customers, and there was no one to help me. I went home that evening and cried. A couple days later I quit.
I'm sure the majority of you that are reading this are thinking, wow, this girl is a baby. She should have just sucked it up and gotten through it. Believe me, I told myself to do that, but I just couldn't. A few months later I was diagnosed as a depressive. I am being treated for my anxious tendancies and mild inability to cope with unfamiliar surroundings. I think I might be able to get back to the job scene soon.
It so happens that I was searching jobs in my area on the internet and found a listing for a vet assistant in my town. Exactly the kind of job I think I would do best at. I'm still scared of the unknown though, I don't even know which clinic the opening is at yet. I forced myself, after three days of going back and forth in my mind between fear and logic, to email Nebraska Work Force and look into the position. I really think I could be happy with a job like this. At least, happier than at a job as a grocery store clerk. I really hope it works out so that I can just try it and not chicken out.
Maybe then I can get that cute house for myself and my little Pepsi.
posted by Shelly at
6:21 PM
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