The thing about a wonderful job like the one I'm doing now, where I can work from home and set my own hours, is that I have to show up for it regularly (whether that's at two am or ten pm). That isn't my strong suit, because even when I am consistent in one part of my life, other parts tend to suffer. But I am so grateful to be able to not only work from home, but to use my mind and not just do something repetitive and mundane where I don't need to think much.
When I worked as a teen at Cost Plus in Marin, I was assigned the role of cashier. I wasn't allowed to walk around the store or do any stocking of shelves or anything else besides remain in a certain square foot radius of the point of sale. We didn't have touchscreens or scanners then, and I can't remember how we took credit cards, but it was probably with a manual imprint device. Since there was not always a customer to ring up, there was a lot of boring downtime when I just had to stand there. The only thing they offered to fill the time was the tearing of broad sheets, specifically the Wall Street Journal. The paper was used to wrap delicate items like dishware, ornaments, and anything delicate made of glass or ceramic. I was jealous of the employees that could walk around the store as part of their jobs; but I don't recall ever asking if I could do that instead.
I loved to write and read, so I would try to take notes I thought of and read sections of the newspaper when I could do it without appearing to be "not working." I would calculate how much I would make that week to kill time, probably earning around five dollars an hour (I can't remember but I know it was way less than ten). The store was cool, but the job was tedious. It was also emotionally stressful to be a poor person selling hundreds of dollars of merchandise to wealthy Marinites. I was trying to help my mom pay our mortgage and bills while most of the customers were driving expensive cars and redecorating their homes for the seventeenth time. Occasionally, I would steal one of the twenty-five-cent Lindor chocolates we always had for sale at the registers to eat on my break. I didn't have any justification for shoplifting, except for being hungry and not having any money. Looking back, I shouldn't have worked somewhere so far from home, that I had to drive to every day, because that also was a source of stress; though gas was probably less than two dollars a gallon back then.
Before Cost Plus, I worked at Long's Drugstore, which was still a mix of rich people shopping, but was more of a blue-collar environment, so it felt more comfortable. Except that I still felt aimless because I wanted to go to college like most of my friends, instead of working a menial job. That was frustrating. Once I had to ring up a boy and his mom, and I recognized Toby N. as someone I had gone to elementary school with and liked a lot as a friend; he seemed so embarrassed to see me working there that he didn't even make eye contact. That made me feel ashamed, though I had no reason to be. I don't recall being bored there, because it was pretty busy in general. I do remember the cash registers were the most basic kind, where you typed in every price by hand, so my ten-key skills were improving. I got to do some stocking and facing products in the store, which gave me some variety occasionally. I recall (and regret) also shoplifting from there, in the form of cigarettes which I smoked but didn't want to pay for, even though they were cheap at the time. And I would give "discounts" to people who I thought needed it, in the form of simply not ringing up some of their items if they had a lot. That was stealing and I regret doing it, but I guess I was trying to exert some control over my life in a twisted way. I didn't ever tell the customer about it, but just did it on my own. Maybe I was trying to "get back" at the world in some small way for leaving me fatherless and sad. Or I was trying to be slightly rebellious in a way that I thought wouldn't hurt anybody.
I slightly redeemed my karma by alerting the manager to a whole stack of cash they had missed when doing the nightly cash pickup at closing time one day. I didn't think twice about it, and they were very grateful. Ironically, it was a similar incident that got me fired from the OMSI "Science Store" gift shop many years later.
It should have been a minor infraction if anything, because the store was closed at the time (but there were still a few customers remaining, and that was her reasoning for the firing). The money was in a zipper bag, and not loose in the open, and it was only out of my sight for several minutes; but another supervisor reported me for it. I regret accepting that job, it was pretty shitty in several ways (like a lot of retail) and I was already very content doing the volunteer work I was already doing there in the insect and animal center. The interesting thing is that because of that job (this would still have happened if I only stayed doing the volunteer work there that I enjoyed) I reunited with my childhood friend from California, Kirsten E., whom I had no idea had been living in Vancouver for almost as many years as I had been in Portland already. Getting fired or suspended for any reason sucks. It feels sad and demeaning, and made me feel very alone and let down, disappointed in myself, my choices, and my boss and coworkers for not giving me a second chance.
I remember thinking I was never welcomed or accepted by them in the first place, so why was I surprised? And now I realize more than ever that if you act out of desperation rather than doing something that really meets your soul purpose and helps you on your journey to fulfill your highest potential, it's not going to work out. I think the biggest clue/red flag was that she (Tina, the boss who lacked a sense of humor and any empathy) wanted to hire me as a supervisor, which I totally didn't want the responsibility of, especially after having been a manager at Subway (the only job I got offered after college; another long story) ... so that (I believe) is called self-fulfilling prophecy. Or is it destiny? Anyway, the job was not a good fit for me, and karma/dharma ironed that out for me eventually, since I wouldn't do it myself. There's always something good even in seemingly shitty things, and I did like riding my bike to work there, over the river and along the waterfront ... and I got into the museum for free; not that I went on my days off ...
It was definitely hard working three jobs at the time in California as a teen to try and take care of my mom, when what I wished I was doing was living on my own or with a friend, and taking art classes. (The other two jobs were at Wildwood Natural Foods and West Brooklyn Pizza Company, which I may or may not discuss later, if I haven't already done so and forgotten about it.) I remember how much it sucked to be reprimanded for being late to the tofu/sandwich-making job because I was coming from the drugstore across town, but at least the managers there were forgiving. This was a long time before cell phones, by the way.
After all that randomness and run-on sentences galore, all the confessions and truth-telling, I think the point in the back of my mind is that cashiers (and any low-level, but very essential workers) should be paid more, so they can actually pay their bills and possibly save up for a vacation or to own a home; but definitely just enough at least to make ends meet without super mental stress and physical exhaustion. I also think they (cashiers especially, who are confined to a small space all day) should be allowed to sit as desired, as long as it is convenient and conducive to doing the job. When I watch movies with cashiers sitting on stools at their registers in the supermarkets in the UK, and other parts of Europe, I can't believe it's not allowed here at all. The job is done just as, and possibly even more, efficiently than by the people forced to stand constantly. I have experienced so much back, knee, and foot pain from standing in the same spot at these different jobs, that could easily have been avoided if we were allowed to simply sit.
I think I could write a whole essay on that particular bullshit point alone, it makes me so mad. Other bullshit things I have come across at different retail jobs (including Wal-Mart and Rite Aid) were that you are not allowed to have your phone on your person while on the clock, and you are not to have your hands in your pockets at any time, and you are always to "keep busy," even if it means straightening the same rack of gum that's already been done, or cleaning the same counters that have already been wiped down multiple times. This "keep busy" mentality makes sense in most ways, and I did take it seriously, but "busy work" is unproductive, uninspiring, and even demeaning because there is no tangible result to show for it. Even when a manager would bring you a task that you could do at the check stand in between customers, the fact that you have to stand there when it could be done just as easily while seated, just drives me nuts with the lack of compassion or logical consideration for basic ergonomics.
This wasn't as short as I wanted it to be, but I got some cobwebs of my own out into the open, which will hopefully help me let go of past resentment and regret; it's long overdue so I can continue to try and make peace with my life choices and situations and move into a better and brighter future. P&L
