Job Jargon

March 21, 2103

Next to a coffee-colored woman with a caramel silk scarf wrapped around and around her head who is muttering under her breath. Dates, names of Superiors, searching for action words to describe her multitude of tasks at her last position, whispering her email address to incorporate near the top of the document and occasionally sighing loudly. The click of computer keys interrupt my thoughts of scrawny Paula, working at 12 in my parent’s in their infamous for the foamy root beer A&W. Sweltering brown corduroy pants, cover-what-little-butt-I-had-back-then burnt orange poly top with brown trim and an ecstatic grin on my face. I was earning minimum wage, I believe it was $2.35 per hour plus tips we scrounged and divided amongst the other ‘hops.

Barely able to swing the metal tray laced with a rubber mat on the bottom to prevent the heavy octagonal mugs from sliding off, car hopping was my favorite assignment since it meant I appeared to be working hard and could generate more tips for the effort. The customers took advantage of a skinny twerp trying to earn money for not-hand-me-down clothes, dog food and treats for Sybil, the Samoyed and college tuition. Ambitious and stingy, fiercely loyal and determined I didn’t let many of those mugs slip through our fingers into the thieves cupboards or park on robber’s desks as pencil holders. 

As I tread slowly across the foggy fields of memory creating my chronological employment history I realize just how complicated and seemingly random that path was.  However it led me to the place I am today, through the multitude of Managers, Supervisors, shop owners, fellow employees, name, rank and serial number of so many whom were making their way across the sands of time with me. A number were threatened and against me yet that is another story in and of itself.  Placed in their snow boots, leather sandals, rubber flip flops, pumps or Keens, I may have done the very same horrid thing.

A slight man, a bit older looking than me, dressed in all shades of black, across the aisle and behind me has been out of work for over six months and is nearly in tears considering the loss of his family home.  How do we as a society cope with the suffering of a long string of unbeknownst to us, poor choices, bad karma, indiscriminant decisions,  string of wicked luck and inattentive management of what we once had? We stick together as a community. I call my friend, write a letter, send an email, text, create telepathic bond or yell into a tin can attached to another by a long string. Whatever it takes!