When I was 12, I delivered the local community paper to homes. Come to think of it now, I guess my parents did not feel I was ready for the big time with a major paper.
Moment of sad reflection.
Every week a massive pile of papers were launched onto my driveway early in the morning for me to take to the good people of my district. On top of the pile was a tiny yellow envelope (more suited for ear rings) with $3.10 in it. Let's recall that this was an era where toonies and loonies were words to describe idiots. Ok, not toonies but you get the point. In the envelope was a red two dollar bill and a green one dollar bill plus a dime. Good enough for a few Slush Puppies.
It turns out my parents were right about my dedication to non-rolled papers. There was no way I could carry all those papers on my bike and investing in a large wagon (or wheel barrel) made no sense since I had no hope of recovering my costs. Three bucks didn't even cover labour.
I was more concerned with my bike, soccer and my baseball bat than delivering hundreds of papers. Alas, I wasn't that stupid. I basically understood the city was using me as their bitch for a lousy three bucks.
The job didn't last very long. Maybe a couple of months. My earnings power couldn't have been more than $24 in 1984.
A couple of years later I moved on and worked part-time during the summer for my brother-in-law's brother's construction company.
Let me set you up a little. I was no ruffian. Sure I worked hard but I was no construction worker. I was an athlete and it showed. I never got teased as much as I did during my time with the company. Then again, my boss wasn't exactly into teaching anything.
At school I was cool and popular. In the real world, I was a putz. And my boss was not sympathetic. He was the Bobby Knight and Billy Martin of the construction world.
The moment I realized I was never going to cut it in this business (though I am currently having a second go at it - as an investor) was when I went to do some repaving work on a driveway. My boss asked me to bring some spikes and tubes and other assorted items to set up the driveway. I was also told in an aggressive tone to prepare the cord and wrap it around the stakes in the ground.
For a few minutes I stood unable to figure out how it worked. Oh, that helpless feeling. Do I go ask for help and face bring humiliated or do I stand and do nothing and still feel the Wrath of Khan? There was no way for me to win.
Already reeling from being called a "girl" earlier for not being able to carry to 20 pound, five feet tubes on each shoulder, my ego soon took another massive shot.
As I fiddled with the cord as if it was a Rubix Cube, a little old lady with construction boots darted out of the house literally coming out of nowhere to yank the tool from my hands. While she shouted in Italian dialect something about how modern kids were useless, she expertly did what I was supposed to do - in fifteen minutes flat.
I was embarrassed but it was hilarious.
I still remember Steve's (my boss) face until this day.
In the early 1990s (I think it was 1991) my friends and I all decided to apply to Toys 'R' Us. Sorry. I could not find a reversed 'R' on my keyboard.We all got hired for the night shift. What were the odds of this happening? It was destiny!
On our first night, we were reunited with two shady high school acquaintances but that didn't last more than three shifts to nobody's surprise. The first thing I was asked was, "Do you need a Easy Baker Oven?" To which I replied, "What the fuck am I going to do with an Easy-Bake Oven?" "Relax" he said. "I'm just asking. We have stock to move."
We? Priceless. He acted like the depot was his company.
Like I said, they were pinched - sorta. It seems they emptied out stock a little too vigorously if you get my drift.
That left four immature idiots (along with a couple of elderly ladies who bothered nobody) to roam a toy store at night with one manager a couple of years removed from us. Whatever intelligence we may have possessed we deliberately suspended every night between midnight and 8 in the morning.
What a mess.
What a stinking mess.
One of the guys was responsible to ensure that the entire game section was stocked and in order. That was his job for eight hours. It was a blast rearranging what he spent hours working on. Coming back from "lunch break" he would come back to shelves that were completely disorganized and not presentable.
There was a lot of running around. Driving of cars, pulling down of pants, and outright questionable behaviour. You know, guy stuff. Our manager would often be off sleeping somewhere so the animals often took over the asylum. Kinda like Lord of the Flies. Not that he led by example. He would even take part in some of our schemes. Let's just say he lost what little control he may have had.
During one shift, we fell so far behind that he ordered us to stay until 10am. He allowed four wired kids dressed in black tuques, Steve Earle t-shirts emblazoned with skulls and construction boots to roam the aisles of the store among patrons. Not a good idea.
As soon as the doors opened a lady mauled my friend for help on a special item that was being sold. Our manager knew it was going to be a huge day. Catching wind of this, we sent every person who asked for the item to my friend. He was swamped literally by dozens of anxious women looking for the item. Anyway, we played the 'pass the buck' game on purpose and our manager soon decided to cut his losses before we went nuts and sent us home 30 minutes later.
The best moment came with our piece de resistance. The Barbie section. While stocked the shelves, we decided to expose Barbie's breast in every box. All you saw were topless and bottomless Barbies. In one instance, we have Ken fondling Barbs.
We left it that way until a loud scream beckoned. It was our manager. We were obviously ordered to restore dignity to Barbie.
We were busy on another project but we agreed to get to it later.
8am came around and we forgot to do it.
We did some OT and our manager came in and told us to leave by 8:45 since some big boys from Toronto were inspecting the store since 8am.
That's when my friend and I remembered about the Barbie aisle.
We scrambled, slipped and slid our way to the aisle. We were too late.
The men were already taking notes.
We were quietly told to fix the aisle by 9am.
We had 15 minutes. It took us close to 45 minutes.
Luckily, it was a slow day.
No one ever saw Barbie bent over taking it doggy style from Ken.
Today. We all have families and work for a living. One of us works for foreign affairs. One is a rising investment analyst star, another is a successful salesman.
But for one summer, we were four guys living in the moment unsure where life would take us.
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