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So I thought I would share this story with you guys. I’m going through a massive dry spell with SC’s at the minute (seriously, it’s unnerving that I haven’t had one for weeks). The story of my first “official job”. It was back in 2004 when I was 18 years old. I had had previous forms of employment in things like paper rounds and work placements during my school years, but this was the first time I had gone out and got a job on my own.
It was a couple of months after I had started university. Despite paying rent for my student halls and tuition, I was actually managing my money and student loans really well. There wasn’t an immediate need for me to get a job. However, I decided to look anyway as I wanted some cash so I could go out and treat myself to a movie or something guilt free. I was finding it difficult. At the time, I was feeling a little homesick and I wanted my weekends to be free so I could travel back. The only days I had free were Wednesdays and Thursdays, as I did not have any lectures or classes. Finding a part time job when I was so picky was hard.
A couple of weeks later and I still hadn’t found anything. All I had been offered were full time positions, which was strange because I had put on all my applications that I was a student and wanted bare minimum part time work. Suddenly, two of my hall mates appeared and they were excited. They had just been given a part time job each at a local deli that was literally around the corner from where we lived. They informed me that there were still jobs going and they were very flexible with students.
So I immediately walked to the deli. I looked on the door and saw that they were advertising for a part time worker. “MUST BE AVAILABLE TO WORK WEDNESDAYS AND THURSDAYS” Wow. Jackpot. I walked in and told them I was enquiring about the position.
“And when can you work?”
I told them Wednesday and Thursday. The man’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof. He ran out the back and grabbed his wife (I can’t actually remember their names anymore). Again, I was asked when I was free. They were very excited. They literally hired me on the spot there and then and they hadn’t even asked me my name. As I mentioned before, this was the first time I had ever gone and looked for a job on my own, so no alarm bells went off in my head like they would have today.
Within the space of ten minutes they had taken my name and provided me with a uniform. They wanted me to start work the next day (a Wednesday). I was excited, but I felt that I had to be brutally honest with them. I had no previous experience at all, especially with deli foods. Seriously, at the time I was barely aware that there were other types of cheese besides cheddar. This place sold everything. I recall that it also sold things like baby octopus, every type of olive imaginable and dozens of different sandwich fillers (the place double as a sandwich shop as well as a deli).
“Oh that’s fine! Don’t worry! We will give you all the training you need!”
I was very pleased. I called my parents (who had been on my back at the time for not getting a job) and excitedly informed them that I had a part time job that wasn’t going to clash with weekends or my studies. They were pleased.
Remember, 18 years old, first job. No alarm bells when there should have been. They hadn’t given me a contract or anything. They hadn’t asked for my ID, date of birth or even my telephone number. The poor innocent 18 year old version of me was unaware that these things were kind of important when you were getting a job.
The next day arrives and I am ready and in my white uniform (seriously, whoever thought that deli workers should wear white is an idiot). I get to the deli and I am greeted with a line that is out to the door of customers who wanted sandwiches.
“Can you get behind here and start serving please?”
Uhh, what? Start serving? I hadn’t been shown ANYTHING. I didn’t know how much anything was, I didn’t know how to work the register and I didn’t know what equipment to use. I am stood at the end of the counter when the husband raises his eyebrows to me.
“Well?? Start serving!!”
Innocent 18 year old me thought I had done something wrong and immediately obeyed. I went to the first customer.
C: Can I have the chicken teriyaki bloomer on rye with extra butter and can you make it hot please?
That request has stayed with me forever. Here were the problems.
1. I didn’t know where the chicken teriyaki was. I looked through all the sandwich fillings and not one of them was labelled.
2. I didn’t know what rye was. OK, that sounds dumb, but in my household we only ever referred to bread as “brown” and “white”
3. After figuring out that rye was brown bread, I discovered that this place had several different types of brown bread. Again, they were not labelled.
4. Where the fuck was the butter?
5. How was I supposed to heat it up? Was I supposed to put the filling in the microwave? Or the whole sandwich? I didn’t have a clue and asked for help.
The husband reacted like I was the most incompetent worker he had ever come across. He snarled at me as he told me what to do. It took me about ten minutes just to serve this one customer, and I still hadn’t cashed them out, mainly because I didn’t have a clue how much anything costs. Again I was snarled at. I was snarled at a final time because I hadn’t packed the sandwich correctly.
I honestly thought that I was doing something very wrong. The more cynical version of me now would have told him to get fucked after the first snarl. He eventually stormed down the counter and worked as far away from me as he could, and left me in the care of his wife, who was much worse.
Although she did talk me through how to make things and where things were stored, she was such a fucking dragon that I was left terrified.
“Put butter on that sandwich! NO! NO! NO! THAT’S TOO MUCH!”
“Slice that Gouda cheese thinly! NO THAT’S TOO THIN!!”
“Pass me a spoonful of sevillano olives! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE??”
I was running around like an idiot, and my white uniform was stained with about a hundred different sauces. Eventually the rush died down.
“Good. Now clean the meat slicer!” she bellowed.
I looked at the slicer. The sight of an electric circular blade the size of my head worried me a little bit, so I requested a little bit of training.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” She stormed over and yanked the socket out of the wall. “There! Now it won’t switch on! Now it needs to be cleaned!”
I looked and saw her husband shaking his head in disgust...at me. The kind, plump mom and pop type from the day before had been replaced with Mickey and Mallory. I still soldiered on. I was so inexperienced with work that all I could think was “Oh well, no one said work was meant to be fun.” I cleaned the slicer as best as I could. She returned to inspect it.
“You call that cleeeeeeeeaaaan?? You know what! Forget it!”
The rush was gone and it was very quiet. The two of them disappeared into the back room and remained there for a while. I was left on my own. I had been there for two hours and I was left running the place. I decided to take the opportunity and started to study all their products and places, just so I wouldn’t be caught out again. I served a few very kind customers who, seeing that I was new, helped direct me to the products they wanted. They then pointed out the prices on the board and I was able to ring them out. I felt very pleased that I had been able to serve a few customers on my own without assistance.
Suddenly, the two of them appeared from the back room. Husband opened the register and handed me £40. Wife spoke.
“We can tell you’re just not getting this so we’ve decided to let you go. There’s some money for your...effort.”
Husband spoke.
“Wash the uniform and return it by tomorrow. We need it for whoever replaces you.”
I was absolutely stunned. I could only say “OK” and headed out the door. I felt so useless. I blamed myself. I must not have been good enough for a job. I must have been the worst employee ever. I headed into town with my money and immediately wasted every penny of it on a mixture of movies and alcohol. I couldn’t even bring myself to call my parents and tell them what had happened.
I eventually did call home. After talking it through with my parents, they assured me that I had done nothing wrong, and that I had been treated appallingly. We were on the phone for ages, and eventually my shame and embarrassment disappeared. I was now pissed. I stormed around to the deli (which had closed for the day) and stuffed my extremely dirty uniform through the letterbox with a large note that said “THANK YOU!!!” on it with several smiley faces. What were they going to do? They didn’t know where I lived and they didn’t even have my phone number.
The next day, my friend was due to work her first shift there. I hadn’t seen her since mine so I didn’t get the chance to warn her. During her shift, she slipped on a spillage that the wife had caused. She wasn’t injured but she did land on her butt on the floor. The wife screamed at her, saying she had no time for “attention seekers” and told her to get the hell out. The husband apparently yelled:
“And make sure you return and wash the uniform, unlike your friend from yesterday!”
My friend appeared at my room and she was pissed. We exchanged our experiences and they were just as bad as each other. She wanted to burn the uniform and post the ashes through the letterbox. We managed to get a hold of our other friend who was hired and warned her about what had happened, as she was due to start on the Friday.
Other friend went in, and the two of them glared at her. Wife bellowed:
“After the experience we’ve had with your friends, we don’t want you!”
“And make sure you wash that uniform and return it!”
Other friend told them to go fuck themselves in front of all the customers and stormed out.
That afternoon, my friends got their uniforms and laid them out in the car park outside the halls. They took it in turns running them over in their cars and utterly destroyed them. They then went around and posted them through the deli letterbox. Petty yes, but at the time it was one of the best things I had ever watched. Like I said before, they hadn’t even bothered to take our details. They had no idea where we lived or anything.
I didn’t bother looking for a job for the rest of the university year. I started working in pubs a year later.
And that is the story of my first job.
It was a couple of months after I had started university. Despite paying rent for my student halls and tuition, I was actually managing my money and student loans really well. There wasn’t an immediate need for me to get a job. However, I decided to look anyway as I wanted some cash so I could go out and treat myself to a movie or something guilt free. I was finding it difficult. At the time, I was feeling a little homesick and I wanted my weekends to be free so I could travel back. The only days I had free were Wednesdays and Thursdays, as I did not have any lectures or classes. Finding a part time job when I was so picky was hard.
A couple of weeks later and I still hadn’t found anything. All I had been offered were full time positions, which was strange because I had put on all my applications that I was a student and wanted bare minimum part time work. Suddenly, two of my hall mates appeared and they were excited. They had just been given a part time job each at a local deli that was literally around the corner from where we lived. They informed me that there were still jobs going and they were very flexible with students.
So I immediately walked to the deli. I looked on the door and saw that they were advertising for a part time worker. “MUST BE AVAILABLE TO WORK WEDNESDAYS AND THURSDAYS” Wow. Jackpot. I walked in and told them I was enquiring about the position.
“And when can you work?”
I told them Wednesday and Thursday. The man’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof. He ran out the back and grabbed his wife (I can’t actually remember their names anymore). Again, I was asked when I was free. They were very excited. They literally hired me on the spot there and then and they hadn’t even asked me my name. As I mentioned before, this was the first time I had ever gone and looked for a job on my own, so no alarm bells went off in my head like they would have today.
Within the space of ten minutes they had taken my name and provided me with a uniform. They wanted me to start work the next day (a Wednesday). I was excited, but I felt that I had to be brutally honest with them. I had no previous experience at all, especially with deli foods. Seriously, at the time I was barely aware that there were other types of cheese besides cheddar. This place sold everything. I recall that it also sold things like baby octopus, every type of olive imaginable and dozens of different sandwich fillers (the place double as a sandwich shop as well as a deli).
“Oh that’s fine! Don’t worry! We will give you all the training you need!”
I was very pleased. I called my parents (who had been on my back at the time for not getting a job) and excitedly informed them that I had a part time job that wasn’t going to clash with weekends or my studies. They were pleased.
Remember, 18 years old, first job. No alarm bells when there should have been. They hadn’t given me a contract or anything. They hadn’t asked for my ID, date of birth or even my telephone number. The poor innocent 18 year old version of me was unaware that these things were kind of important when you were getting a job.
The next day arrives and I am ready and in my white uniform (seriously, whoever thought that deli workers should wear white is an idiot). I get to the deli and I am greeted with a line that is out to the door of customers who wanted sandwiches.
“Can you get behind here and start serving please?”
Uhh, what? Start serving? I hadn’t been shown ANYTHING. I didn’t know how much anything was, I didn’t know how to work the register and I didn’t know what equipment to use. I am stood at the end of the counter when the husband raises his eyebrows to me.
“Well?? Start serving!!”
Innocent 18 year old me thought I had done something wrong and immediately obeyed. I went to the first customer.
C: Can I have the chicken teriyaki bloomer on rye with extra butter and can you make it hot please?
That request has stayed with me forever. Here were the problems.
1. I didn’t know where the chicken teriyaki was. I looked through all the sandwich fillings and not one of them was labelled.
2. I didn’t know what rye was. OK, that sounds dumb, but in my household we only ever referred to bread as “brown” and “white”
3. After figuring out that rye was brown bread, I discovered that this place had several different types of brown bread. Again, they were not labelled.
4. Where the fuck was the butter?
5. How was I supposed to heat it up? Was I supposed to put the filling in the microwave? Or the whole sandwich? I didn’t have a clue and asked for help.
The husband reacted like I was the most incompetent worker he had ever come across. He snarled at me as he told me what to do. It took me about ten minutes just to serve this one customer, and I still hadn’t cashed them out, mainly because I didn’t have a clue how much anything costs. Again I was snarled at. I was snarled at a final time because I hadn’t packed the sandwich correctly.
I honestly thought that I was doing something very wrong. The more cynical version of me now would have told him to get fucked after the first snarl. He eventually stormed down the counter and worked as far away from me as he could, and left me in the care of his wife, who was much worse.
Although she did talk me through how to make things and where things were stored, she was such a fucking dragon that I was left terrified.
“Put butter on that sandwich! NO! NO! NO! THAT’S TOO MUCH!”
“Slice that Gouda cheese thinly! NO THAT’S TOO THIN!!”
“Pass me a spoonful of sevillano olives! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE??”
I was running around like an idiot, and my white uniform was stained with about a hundred different sauces. Eventually the rush died down.
“Good. Now clean the meat slicer!” she bellowed.
I looked at the slicer. The sight of an electric circular blade the size of my head worried me a little bit, so I requested a little bit of training.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” She stormed over and yanked the socket out of the wall. “There! Now it won’t switch on! Now it needs to be cleaned!”
I looked and saw her husband shaking his head in disgust...at me. The kind, plump mom and pop type from the day before had been replaced with Mickey and Mallory. I still soldiered on. I was so inexperienced with work that all I could think was “Oh well, no one said work was meant to be fun.” I cleaned the slicer as best as I could. She returned to inspect it.
“You call that cleeeeeeeeaaaan?? You know what! Forget it!”
The rush was gone and it was very quiet. The two of them disappeared into the back room and remained there for a while. I was left on my own. I had been there for two hours and I was left running the place. I decided to take the opportunity and started to study all their products and places, just so I wouldn’t be caught out again. I served a few very kind customers who, seeing that I was new, helped direct me to the products they wanted. They then pointed out the prices on the board and I was able to ring them out. I felt very pleased that I had been able to serve a few customers on my own without assistance.
Suddenly, the two of them appeared from the back room. Husband opened the register and handed me £40. Wife spoke.
“We can tell you’re just not getting this so we’ve decided to let you go. There’s some money for your...effort.”
Husband spoke.
“Wash the uniform and return it by tomorrow. We need it for whoever replaces you.”
I was absolutely stunned. I could only say “OK” and headed out the door. I felt so useless. I blamed myself. I must not have been good enough for a job. I must have been the worst employee ever. I headed into town with my money and immediately wasted every penny of it on a mixture of movies and alcohol. I couldn’t even bring myself to call my parents and tell them what had happened.
I eventually did call home. After talking it through with my parents, they assured me that I had done nothing wrong, and that I had been treated appallingly. We were on the phone for ages, and eventually my shame and embarrassment disappeared. I was now pissed. I stormed around to the deli (which had closed for the day) and stuffed my extremely dirty uniform through the letterbox with a large note that said “THANK YOU!!!” on it with several smiley faces. What were they going to do? They didn’t know where I lived and they didn’t even have my phone number.
The next day, my friend was due to work her first shift there. I hadn’t seen her since mine so I didn’t get the chance to warn her. During her shift, she slipped on a spillage that the wife had caused. She wasn’t injured but she did land on her butt on the floor. The wife screamed at her, saying she had no time for “attention seekers” and told her to get the hell out. The husband apparently yelled:
“And make sure you return and wash the uniform, unlike your friend from yesterday!”
My friend appeared at my room and she was pissed. We exchanged our experiences and they were just as bad as each other. She wanted to burn the uniform and post the ashes through the letterbox. We managed to get a hold of our other friend who was hired and warned her about what had happened, as she was due to start on the Friday.
Other friend went in, and the two of them glared at her. Wife bellowed:
“After the experience we’ve had with your friends, we don’t want you!”
“And make sure you wash that uniform and return it!”
Other friend told them to go fuck themselves in front of all the customers and stormed out.
That afternoon, my friends got their uniforms and laid them out in the car park outside the halls. They took it in turns running them over in their cars and utterly destroyed them. They then went around and posted them through the deli letterbox. Petty yes, but at the time it was one of the best things I had ever watched. Like I said before, they hadn’t even bothered to take our details. They had no idea where we lived or anything.
I didn’t bother looking for a job for the rest of the university year. I started working in pubs a year later.
And that is the story of my first job.
.
so I was let go, with bossman wishing me the best of luck and offering to write a good reference letter for me if I ever needed one, as he could see I was a good worker, just not physically fit for the job.
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