My First Job: aka The Worst Summer Of My Life

Way back in the olden days, okay so it wasn't that long ago but my kids, well you know how kids are, anything past 6 months ago is ancient history. Okay anyways, back when I was a teenager, I think I was 13, my mom insisted that I get a job. She didn't care that people typically didn't hire 13 year olds to do anything productive. I kept trying to tell her that it was illegal for children to work and that there were even laws about it. It was called child labor.

Obviously she was smarter than that and she kept telling me to find something. Or else.

I don't remember what "or else" was but I know I was scared. So I took to the streets (not like that, get out of the gutter, people) of my small town and went looking for work. I finally found a "job" at an animal shelter. Can I just interject here that I've never really been a fan of animals? They're nice in theory and I loved our dog and I'd be okay with another dog but most of the time they didn't/ don't do much for me.

Anyhow, I worked at the animal shelter a few days a week cleaning kennels. Here's a fun fact about dogs; they don't use the toilet. They're pretty happy with the concrete. There were also quite a few dogs that were in the shelter for the good of the community. Meaning that they weren't the play fetch kind of animals.

So there I was scooping poop, trying not to get attacked all for the rich sum of...

Wait for it...

Nothing! Yep, I did all of that for free. All summer long. And I had to walk to work, it was totally uphill both ways. For reals, we lived in the hilliest town known to man. To make matters worse, I had to walk by the house of this boy that I had the biggest crush on. I was certain that one day he was going to rush out of his house, declare his undying love (like all 13 year old boys do) and then take a whiff of my workplace stench and change his mind.

It was a nightmare.

Toward the end of summer my boss took me out to lunch as a way to say thank you. She asked if I had been arrested and was having to do community service. I think I might've started to cry.

I smelled bad. I was poor and now she thought I was a criminal.

Let's just say that every job I've had since then has been a million times better.

So thank you Mom, thanks for putting the fear of God into my scrawny little body and making me go to work. Now that I'm a parent I understand why you did it. Does that mean I'll do that to my kids? Make them work at crappy (get it...) jobs to learn a lesson?

Well, probably. I mean, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?

I'm also not really phased by dirty diapers, animal shelter for the win!