He works hard for the money (sorta)

So, I got a second job. 

I have a really good primary job.  It pays well, has great benefits, and the people in charge of the joint actually understand that what makes the place work are the individuals doing the run of the mill tasks.  There is a sense of being appreciated which doesn’t exist everywhere.

 

I also have a fabulous life partner.  Lori has a good job and pays more than her fair share of the household expenses – way more than her fair share.

But still I was not able to do the financial stuff a fifty-five-year-old man is supposed to do.  You know, like save money, contribute a reasonable amount to the retirement fund, afford a vacation beyond a day trip to Lawrence to cruise Mass Street, and not feel guilty when I buy a baseball hat I truly don’t need.  Those of you who know I went to St. Croix and later a Caribbean cruise do not know that Lori paid the majority of those expenses.  Remember what I said? I have a fabulous life partner.   

So, I got a second job. 

From the time I was seventeen until I got my first job as an elementary school teacher at the age of 31 I worked retail/service jobs – movie theaters, video stores, bookstores.

Minor tangent:  Each and every one of those workplaces are no longer in business:  the Airport Drive-In, the Southutch Drive-In (I am that old), The Flag Theater, The Granada Theater, Popingo Video – both in Hutchinson and Lawrence, The Video Station, Waldenbooks – Santa Monica Place Mall, Waldenbooks – Crown Center (the entire chain went away), Brentano’s Bookstore – Mission Center Mall (even the mall was torn down), and Hastings (yes, again, the whole chain went belly up).  The fact that all these places I worked are now defunct is not a post hoc ergo propter hoc sort of thing.  I promise.  At least I’m pretty sure.  Probably…

Anyway, I got a second job.  There is a shopping area right close to my primary job and I had seen a “Now Hiring” sign in the window of a place I had been to a few times as a customer.  I had been a retail guy a lot so it seemed like a reasonable way to make ends get a little closer together. 

I will not be speaking entirely favorably in this essay, so I won’t give the name of the store.  Let’s just say it rhymes with “Tally Mouse”. 

The manager who hired me was just about to transfer to open a brand-new store in a different city, so I arrived at a time of flux.  In that time of flux nobody thought it would be a good thing to train me.  Therefore, I spent the first several shifts figuring things out.  The only things I really did was fold t-shirts and stack t-shirts and unfold t-shirts in order to hang t-shirts. I have three college degrees, so I was able to muddle through.

Minor tangent #2:  After four months of working at “Galley Souse” the manager looked at what I was doing and said I was folding the t-shirts wrong.  I guess I should have gone for that fourth college degree. 

Eventually they gave me some lessons on the cash register functions on the computers, but I wouldn’t call it training.  Any time somebody wanted to do anything other than buy a t-shirt I had to ask for help.  This did not instill any level of confidence in me and meant that I believed in my mind and soul that everybody who worked there thought I was not very bright and crappy at this job.  This was reinforced.  Not by anybody saying things like “man, you’re not very bright and crappy at this job” but rather because nobody ever said anything affirming like “good job” or “thank you.” 

Having been in management for a great number of retail establishments (who later went out of business through no fault of my own) if I saw an employee having to ask for help at every turn I would have asked if they would like to have some tutorials on how to do things.  At “Valley Dowse” I just put my head down, glancing at the people in charge certain in my mind that they thought it odd that a man of my age and background could be so daft and returned to folding t-shirts. The wrong way!

There was one aspect of training they took very seriously.  There were worksheets. 

“Dally Blouse” was very serious about engaging the customers in conversations.  The worksheets gave scenarios for talking to customers.  There were stages to this conversation the first was called schmoozing.  I know schmoozing.  I’ve known some top of the line schmoozers. This, sir, was no schmoozing. 

I did have some fun filling out the worksheets.  I looked at them as creative writing exercises.  I wanted to make comedy routines out of them but felt that would be frowned upon so I just tried to make them interesting to me and since I am at heart an intellectual snob I tried to weave in some words I am sure had never been used on these worksheets before.  Like, accoutrements and shibboleth.  I am a jerk. 

In true “Alley Spouse” manner, the worksheets were not revisited with me at all.  The teachable moments (hey, I was a public school educator for 20+ years so I know phrases like that) were not taken advantage of at all. 

Here are some of the things I did learn. 

I learned being a 55-year-old man and leaving the house at 6:30 AM and then returning home at 10:00 PM, even if job one is not physically taxing and job two is not intellectually taxing, it wears you out.

I learned that if I am not given any positive feedback I can easily spin that into a strong belief that the people in charge believe I am downright useless.

I learned that feeling downright useless means I dread going to a place where I feel downright useless and that anxiety is really hard to shake. 

I learned that “extra” money is never really “extra”.  Oh, I made some in roads with some of the debt but not as much as the time away from home (and my fabulous life partner) was worth. 

I learned how to fold a damn t-shirt, eventually.  

So, I quit my second job.