Pictures to Burn

Lately, old memories have been rushing to me like ocean tides. People who have come in, and out of, my life. Experiences that I had, or wished I hadn't. So, like any normal person, I've decided to broadcast them on the Internet for everyone to see, in a feature of "Monday Memories".

Many people know that I worked in a popular Canadian coffeeshop for 7 long years, but what most people don't know, and what I frequently forget, is that it wasn't my first real* job.

The summer before highschool, I remember being told that there would be no more money coming to me for clothes, and other things parents buy for you when you're young. I'd be given a monthly stipend for my work on the farm, though I was encouraged to seek employment elsewhere to cover any new costs I'd incur.

So started my first job hunt. Resumes and cover letters passed throughout the town. My first experience with being offered every job I applied for, which would cause a lot of confusion later on, when jobs didn't come so easily. When I went to drop off my resume at the bakery in town, I was immediately offered a position. And I took it.

Walking past the little restaurant in my work building this morning, the smell of fresh-baked bread brought images of the bakery flooding back. I did everything but actually bake anything. Long days of washing dishes, serving customers, stocking the shelves. I was the only employee, other than the owners (who did all the baking and none of the other work). A lot of responsibility from open 'til close, with unattractive pay. A job that resulted in tears, and a discussion with my mother that it was probably time to look elsewhere, even if the owners were friends of family friends.

It was just one summer, but it was my first foray into working for a boss that you couldn't curse and cry and scream at when you felt your job was "not fair". It felt good to have money of my own, and buy things for myself. It also taught me that dreading going to work every day wasn't worth it. I searched around for other employment, and got in with Canada's largest coffee chain, a job that was with me for nearly one-third of my life.

*Real meaning someone paying me other than my parents. Growing up on a farm, you'd better believe we had our own jobs to do. We were given tasks that matched our abilities at a very young age.