Today’s Prompt: First Job
What was the first paying job you had, or maybe the first job you quit?
The thing I remember most is the pants: a pair of low-riding khaki fit-and-flares, unnecessarily tight. I remember buying them at Fred Meyer; I remember wearing them in the rain, retrieving carts; I remember a curly-haired checker at least twice my age coming up behind me as I re-shelved the go-backs and saying "hey, miss Bongo", reading from the logo emblazoned on my backside.
It was part of the company uniform, which made the pants acceptable: Black or khaki pants, not skirts, and the forest green polo with an embroidered "Ballard Market" and sailboat. I had black pants too, straight-legged chinos I think, though I've never been too confident in my trouserish vocabulary.
I liked bagging groceries, but I wanted to do it carefully and perfectly, Tetris in a brown bag. A fast pace has never been my thing, although I've kept up appearances at one of the busiest downtown Seattle Starbucks and a bustling Montessori toddler room. No wonder much of my time at home in those days was spent staring at a wall and eating entire bags of popcorn. I don't even think I knew the word "overstimulated". I certainly didn't know myself well enough to discern my limits or brainstorm other job possibilities.
Sometimes I would come home and our ministers would be there. Suddenly, my Bongos would feel shameful, and I would stammer something (out loud, or in my head? I'm not sure) about just coming from work, and I was just going to change.
I wonder what it would have been like to spend my teen years in a job I was well-suited for? Maybe Swanson's Nursery, or the library? Or that cute tea shop on Market Street? And if I'm feeling really crazy, I might imagine my wardrobe not having been under the scrutiny of church and family. What would it have been like to find my interests, to come to know myself, to work hard and well, in a pair of well-fitting jeans without a second thought?
