Monday, June 1, 2015

How commerce changes children


LUKY;
  MUCH TO MY SURPRISE AND DELIGHT, MY SON MANAGED TO GET JOBS FOR HIMSELF AND HIS SISTER DURING THE CHRISTMAS RUSH AT A LOCAL DEPARTMENT STORE.
  She started before him, because he was still writing exams.
It was with a strange feeling that I walked into the shop at 5pm on her first working day.
  She caught sight of me before I recognized her - small wonder, dressed as she was in a monstrous brick-red overall. It did nothing for her looks, being big enough for two of her.
  My heart contracted. Here was my first little birdie flying out of the nest, and look what they'd done to her.
Yet what a smile she gave me.

Meal check
  "You're looking very efficient in that smart overall", I lied, trying to make it sound sincere.
After all, why prick the bubble of her obvious enjoyment? "What did you have for lunch?"
  "They've got a cooked lunch here in the cafeteria", she replied evasively. "Very nice; only thirty-five cents".
  She's her father's daughter all right when it comes to throwing red herrings in my path, but I'm wide awake: "In that case, why did you buy a chocolate and an apple instead?"
  "Oh, Ma! Well, I had a chocolate and a cold drink."
  "As from tomorrow, you have your proper cooked lunch here. They can take the thirty-five cents off your earnings."
  "What, and deplete my pay packet? Not on your life. Besides, you know Daddy hates us to get anything on account."
 
Everything's fine
  The only time my children's parents are ever quoted is when they've said something to suit their offspring.
  "Well," I went on, "I suppose your father will have to give you the thirty-five cents. How did the work go?" 
  "Oh, it's lovely! I love the staff, I love the customers. You know, if they couldn't afford to pay me, I'd work for nothing."
  Skeptically, I commented: "That must be why you're so flush with your cash."
  All the same, I could share her feeling. I've always loved working with the public myself.

  "If you're ever tempted to be rude to someone", I said, "remind yourself that he might just be a king in disguise - or a television talent scout."
  "That's not necessary", she answered. "I love them all. And they're all nice to me!"
She indicated the merchandise arrayed on her counter with an air as proprietary as it was proud.
"Can't I sell you anything?"
"I don't smoke, thanks", I replied, eyeing the pipes and tobacco. "Besides, I'm a miser - like you. I'm off now, but I'll be parked near the entrance. Bye."

Sales talk
  "Oh, just a minute", she called after me in a routine kind of voice I'd never heard her use before.
"On Friday afternoon at 4pm Father Christmas, Mickey Mouse and Dumbo will be visiting the shop.
They'll be giving out free toys, sweets and balloons. Bring your children."
  "I'll do that", I promised, giggling all the way back to my car, though not in any derisive way.
Nobody ever told me one could feel so proud of a daughter who works in gents' sundries in the local department store.

Catherine Nicolette
  Ah yes. My first job. At age seventeen, I was really surprised that Mom thought I looked smart.
I had seen my reflection in the department store mirror, and suffice it to say that no-one was ever going to sing 'You're Beautiful, it's true' when faced with the brick-red overall monstrosity.
  It flapped around my middle every time I turned around, and I had to pin up the cuffs which - left untended - reached long past my extended fingertips.
  Anyhow, I wasn't going to disillusion Mom as regards my appearance; if I looked good, well that was not only a blessing - it was a departmental miracle.

Map of Africa
  I had landed in the gents department, and busily sold wallets with choices of the map of Africa, rhinoceros themes or giraffes loping across the bushveld on them.
I   enjoyed work from day one; even if some days later I first learned the wisdom of Mom's advice to keep my opinion firmly to myself when dealing with others.
  Although a talent scout never came my way.

Champagne flutes and whisky tumblers
  I graduated from gents' sundries to glassware; unpacking champagne flutes and whisky tumblers on to glass shelves, and finding out what a truly aching back and painful arches meant.
  I was then promoted to security guard on Christmas Eve at the costume jewellery store.
All I remember of my security guard time was praying ardently to Divine Providence not to let anyone try to pinch any items on my shift.
  I could not bear the thought of having to turn anyone in for shoplifting on the Eve before the Lord's Birthday; it somehow did Not Seem Right. 
Added to which I seriously doubted my ability to tackle customers from the Free State, celebrated as it is for its well built rugby player population
I spent my shift sweating anxiously at the thought of having to run after a shoplifter.
I was sure I'd never catch up to them - my brick red overall would trip me up first ...
  Thankfully no one pinched.

Redundant
I   was outraged in New Year's week to find that after all my loyal and hard work, my holiday job had been made redundant.
  "Sorry luv", I was told, "Temps only work for a coupla weeks when we have the Christmas rush, no call for ya now."
  I was disgruntled until I landed a job as relief operator at the [now] old-fashioned switchboard.
Anyone who had the fortune to watch 'Nommer Asseblief" many years ago will appreciate the pivotal role the switchboard operator had.
  I was useless at it, though. I disgraced myself by panicking when the lights lit up all over the board.
On my third day as relief operator, I efficiently disconnected the Head Boss from a very important consultation with Management.
  The next day I was gently referred to work as assistant clerk and typist, where I revelled in paperwork, filing cabinets. office gossip and the joys of overboiled tea.
I worked there until I went off to University. That is another story ...

Vintage
I heard the other day that anyone from the eighties is now considered 'vintage'.
I bashfully eschewed imparting the information that my first workdays were pre-vintage; the seventies.

They were such fun...


Image by Catherine Nicolette

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