Part-Time Puppy Love
I have never truly hated any job I’ve ever had.
In high school, I worked at my local Dairy Queen. I’d make blizzards and other frozen treats, take orders at the Drive Thru, and come home smelling like pure sugar. My co-workers and I all had nicknames (I was Mufasa or Obi-Wan, depending on the day), we’d tell each other stories about our lives when the hours dragged by, and despite angry customers (like the large man who ordered a large cone and made me redo it when it wasn’t large enough) I loved it there.
My first summer in college I was a waitress at an Italian restaurant called Johnny Carino’s. The food was adequate but my fellow servers were gold. We’d make up stories about the lives of our customers, complain about the hangry (so hungry they were angry) individuals, and vent about what had happened to us outside of work that day. Even though sometimes my co-workers were uptight and territorial (like the bartender who yelled at me for seating someone outside of her area when she felt it was her turn to have a customer), the tips could be good and the great customers made up for the bad ones (like the older man who told me I was fast and good at my job). I loved it there.
My second summer in college I was an intern at a museum, the Cleveland History Center. I worked in the archives, logging stats about the Jewish community and recording/transcribing oral history interviews. The days could be long and the work could be dull, but I still talk to my four other co-workers. We reunited last summer for lunch with our old boss and could not stop smiling. Even though I was hundred of miles from my family and my boyfriend, living with a friend from high school brought me back to “the good old days,” and work could be fun when the right people were around. I guess I loved it there.
My third summer in college I got a job at a pet store, Heartland Pets. It was in a mall, and I was constantly enveloped by the smell of dog breath and feces, but I loved it there. I got the job sitting in a room playing with a golden retriever. One of the managers came over to check on me, and I asked him for an application. He interviewed me right then and there, told me to come back in two weeks, and I’ve been there since. Jim makes fun of me constantly, but it never ceases to bring a smile to my face.
The customers can be awful, coming in with preconceived (and often incorrect) notions of how the store is run. They can yell and berate about the “small rooms,” the high prices, and their misconceptions of what really goes on when the store isn’t quite open yet. I’ve come home from work crying before, but I always go back. My job is to find a home for puppies and kittens and other small creatures, and I get to hold them for hours on end. I get to hand them to families dying for a furry friend, and that’s worth the criticism and the dirty work of cleaning cages.
It has nothing to do with my hopeful future career of being a historical documentary filmmaker. None of these jobs really have, except for the museum gig which was more history and less film. Some have earned me more money than others (tips at a restaurant can be generous, and I make 8% commission at the pet store) while the internship earned me nothing at all, aside from a chance to live in my hometown again and gain field experience. After graduation I plan to apply for any job that will take me within my chosen field. I expect a long road ahead, and probably eventually a job that I will actually hate.
For now, however, I’m enjoying the love of huskies and shepherds at my local mall. I can wait.
