A Pair of Jeans - part 2

It was Saturday morning in the fall of 1979, my first day at my new job. If you missed the beginning of this story, click here. I was very nervous, but excited and proud to be an actual employee. I arrived a few minutes early and was escorted downstairs to the tiny office. It took me a while to fill out all the paperwork and agree to hard manual labor for the grand sum of $1.50/hour. Even then it was only about half of minimum wage, but it was small-town Utah and I was only 14 so I don't think any of it was legal.

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I signed on the dotted line anyway because if you remember, we were raised to believe that anything was better than nothing and I was handed my first hideous uniform. It was multicolored polyester so the stains wouldn't show. Saturday morning was prep time and typically slow, the perfect time for training.

The boss's wife, Janice, worked the day shift and to say she didn't like me was putting it mildly...but I don't think she really liked anyone...Her partner in crime was their daughter, Lisa, and she didn't like me either. Thankfully, since I was in school, I only had to work with them on Saturdays.

I survived that first day (barely) and I even planned to come back the next week. I gradually got used to the craziness of fast food. Even when it was slow, the Bossman demanded that we work, cleaning and scrubbing and prepping. I was not even allowed to bring my books with me, let alone open them.

After I had been working there for almost two weeks, I got really sick. Like fever, stomachache, throwing up sick. It was a Friday night and I hated to leave them short-handed, but my mother called in for me anyway and I spent the evening in bed.

Did I mention yesterday that one of the reasons I wanted one of those expensive pairs of jeans was to impress my boyfriend? You remember the guy with the awesome blue car that I was only weeks away from nearly crashing for him?

Little did I know that he had picked that particular Friday night to make the 15-minute drive from his hometown (which also happened to be the Bossman's hometown) to mine. He spent the evening cruising main with his guy-friends and at some point they stopped to see me, only they didn't see me, they saw the Bossman. And worse yet, he saw them.

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On Saturday I was feeling much better and I showed up at 5:00 to work my shift. I hung up my jacket, clocked in and got right to work. There was only one table of customers in the front and when they left, I grabbed my rag to clean up their table. That's when the Bossman decided to pounce.

He yelled at me and accused me of calling in sick so I could hang out with my boyfriend. He told me if I didn't want to work I could leave now and never come back. It was one of the worst tongue-lashings I have ever had and that's saying something.

I tried to tell him that I didn't even know my boyfriend was in town, that I was home sick in bed and he was welcome to call my mother, but he wouldn't listen. After about 10 minutes, he went downstairs to his office and left me alone to dry my tears and decide what to do. So far I hadn't earned a single paycheck and in our small town, jobs weren't easy to get. Besides, I hadn't even done anything wong! I guess it was the injustice of it all that made me stay.

Or maybe I'm really just a masochist...

Saying No

Some people think I'm a Super-Over-Achiever, some say a masochist, but really it boils down to one simple thing...I have never been any good at getting out the word, "NO!"

I had really been looking forward to getting things a little caught up this weekend. We had the three days and Saturday was without Sleeping Beauty rehearsals or basketball games...or so I thought. It turned out that our Jr. Jazz games were cancelled the previous week for the team I'm coaching. Suddenly we had a Friday night practice and a Saturday morning game with a swim party afterward (arranged by my amazing assistant coach who happens to have a beautiful indoor pool AT HER HOUSE!)

My Calender

So I'm thinking, OK, I still have the rest of Saturday and Monday to get my act together. About Thursday my sweetie suggested that he wanted to visit his mom on Monday and that he needed to help her with some home repairs and the kids wanted to go sledding. So suddenly my Monday was gone. My big projects for the week included getting my stuff together for my tax appointment, helping the Dog Walker finish 4 scholarship applications he's been working on. Make the King costume for the ballet, and make a cake/birthday party for Burrito because all the family was coming over on Sunday.

Suddenly I only had Saturday from about 2:00 until I dropped into bed. That's when the Dog Walker announced that his Young Men's group was going camping from Friday right after school until they got home Saturday evening. Could I please help him get ready?! Oh, and he had to speak in Sacrament meeting at church on Sunday (in front of about 300 people). Could I please help him write his talk? It's on integrity...

To make a long story short, I survived the weekend. I dragged my box of paperwork with me to see my MIL and sorted receipts while visiting. I helped write the talk while my family watched a movie without me and instead of a long overdue nap, I worked on scholarships Sunday after church. After the family all left from the birthday party, I plopped myself down in front of the sewing machine and got the King costume about half made.

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We got home on Monday about 7:30 and I was feeling like it might work out. My week looked like this. I had half a king costume to finish that I had promised to deliver on Wednesday. I had basketball on Tuesday and Thursday nights, parent/teacher conferences on Wednesday and Thursday after school. Scouts at my house on Friday. Numerous trips to the dance studio, Bossy's having a Park Lane jewelry party at my house Wednesday, my tax appointment is Saturday along with a Tupperware party and early morning pickup of 3200+ boxes of Girl Scout cookies that all need to be delivered.

Drama Queen did Scout's hair to read "Day 100"

Are you tired yet? Sport has Scouts on Wednesday, Crafty has Activity Days and I still have to take my turn with both car pools. Oh, and I promised to help with Hundreds Day on Tuesday in Scout's class. Friday and Saturday have Sleeping Beauty rehearsals that take most of the day and I have a Tupperware party to close and get the order in by midnight on Friday...and it's a pretty big one with lots of replacements that will take me at least an hour to do. And don't forget I still have three scholarship applications with March 1 deadlines. The Blue and Gold Banquet is next Tuesday and since my sweetie is in charge, I'm arranging all the food and entertainment for about 100 people. Our basketball tournament starts next week too, so there is a meeting and schedules to review and buildings to reserve. And we don't even want to talk about laundry or dishes or meals or homework. And of course my awesome blog!

The dress fabric

So Monday night, I'm feeling completely overwhelmed facing this huge and hard week. I get a call from my cute little niece, Araineia. The conversation went like this, "Hi, Aunt Sandy, this is Araineia." I hadn't heard from her in months so I was excited to chat for a minute. Then she asked, "Do you think you could make me a dress for my girls' pref dance?" My heart started to pound. "When do you need it?" She paused for a minute. "The dance is on Saturday," she finally said.


I tried, honestly I did. I started telling her about my crazy schedule, but she was so sweet and understanding that I just couldn't disappoint her. She showed up yesterday and we went to the store for fabric and a pattern.


As Teach always says, "Sleep is over-rated anyway..."

Exhausted!

Always Pack a Lunch!

Working at the Tooele Army Depot, South Area, was definitely the low point in my life. The year was 1988 and we were approaching graduation. I had finally finished my Masters degree in Literature and my sweetie his BS in Electrical Engineering. We loved Logan and the area, but engineering jobs were scarce and we already had two little ones who were in constant need of something. We started sending out resumes, hoping to stay in Utah, but knowing that we would have to settle for what we could get.

I got the first response, then an interview and finally, an offer. They wanted to pay me $26,000/year to become a Technical Writer. This was NOT my dream job, but it would put food on the table and pay for a roof over our heads until my sweetie could find steady work. And after struggling through school since we were married in 1983, it seemed like a pile of money!

I accepted the offer and we prepared to move. Our number one priority was the kids, so we found an apartment in Provo that wasn't too far from my sweetie's aunt who had offered to be our babysitter. I've told you many times that I am NOT a morning person, so getting up at 5:30 was torture for me. At least it was summer when I started, so I didn't have to worry about bad roads and ice. I was hoping to be able to join a carpool so I didn't have to drive the entire way by myself.

The South Area Depot didn't have any facilities for food near the Engineering building, so on the first day, my sweetie packed me a little cooler and I headed out. When I finally got to the gate, I had to be escorted to the building. There was no grass or even paved roads. The area was covered with weeds and large signs that read, "Beware of Rattlesnakes"! The Engineering building was the nicest building out there and it was nothing more than an over-sized double-wide trailer with a tin roof.

I met my new boss and he showed me to my desk...'er desks. They were standard government issue, circa 1950. There were two of them because a desk was cheaper than a wall partition. One of the desks drawers held a box of paperclips, some pencils, and several yellow legal pads. If I needed anything else, I had to ask one of the numerous secretaries.

Now I realize it was 1988, before the days of the internet, but we still had been using computers for word-processing for quite a few years by then. I was not given a computer. Across the partition from my desks was the copy machine that was shared by the entire building. It ran pretty much non-stop. Most of the people working there were government employees. There were two of us (me and another guy) who were contractors and we were both Technical Writers.

The entire South Area was the disposal site for all the nerve agents left over from the previous wars. I was supposed to document the equipment that would eventually burn up all the nerve gas and munitions.

The site was dotted with large bunkers that housed the ancient munitions. We were a couple of miles by jeep away from them. The incinerators and other equipment werre also located there.

I was assigned a gas mask and as a contractor, I had to be escorted each time I visited "the site." I'm claustrophobic, so putting on a mask was terrifying for me although other than training classes and exercises, I never had to put one on for an actual leak.

The first day was grueling and by 4:30 I was more than ready to go home. That's about the time I heard a commotion over the wall. I stood up to see what was going on. A sizable group had gathered around the copy machine about 10 feet from my desks. A couple of the engineers were carrying a 4-foot blow snake (at least it wasn't a rattler!) they had caught when it slithered out while someone was making a copy. The guys were all laughing and joking as they passed my desk. They wanted to make sure I saw their prize!  I quickly turned away and placed my feet on top of my little lunch cooler. I worked like that for the next 8 months....

The Babysitter

You know my yesterday’s post was about how my family had a philosophy that if someone asks you to work for money, you work, regardless of the pay or the horrible conditions? I’ve been thinking about that all day and trying to remember when that first happened for me and I guess the way I most allowed myself to be taken advantage of was when I was babysitting.

Grandma had a dear friend who lived across the street and she had three kids. Mike, the guy who saved me from drowning in the irrigation ditch, Kathy, who taught me to ride a horse (I’ll have to write a post about her soon), and Kerry. Kerry was the oldest and she and I were good friends. OK, I was probably just an annoying little kid and she was very patient.

She married a guy named Mike (funny, huh?) when I was eight. Not long after, she had a baby girl and they named her Stephanie. I started tending Steph when she was slightly less than one and I was slightly less than 9. We bonded right away. I loved that little girl and she loved me! Kerry was sweet and generous and often looked for an excuse to have me over just to watch the baby.

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It was the summer of 1975 and I was 10 1/2 years old. Steph was three, the same age as my little sister. Kerry had gotten a job and they were looking for full-time childcare for Steph during the summer. My parents were worried about me taking on that kind of responsibility at such a young age, but since they just lived around the corner and my family would be close by, we all agreed to give it a try. They offered me $20 a week and that seemed like a fortune although if you calculate it out, it comes to exactly 50 cents an hour.

Even at age 10, I was not a morning person, but I dragged myself out of bed at 7:30 and showed up on their doorstep at five minutes to 8:00. Steph was wide-awake and ready to play. We spent that first day watching TV, playing with her dolls, and reading stories. I made her lunch and we ate Popsicles. We straightened up the house and washed our few dishes. By quarter to four we were waiting patiently for Kerry to show up. After she arrived, I ran straight home; feeling satisfied and pleased that I had survived my first day.

The next morning I arrived again, right on time, but this time it wasn’t my sweet friend, Kerry, waiting for me. It was Mike. He was a bit of a hothead and I tried to avoid him if I could. It became obvious that he was there on purpose. In his hand was a piece of paper and in a not-so-nice voice he demanded that I sit with him at the table. That paper contained a weekly calendar with chores he expected to be done on each of the days, along with watching Steph. He wanted the kitchen floor mopped every day. There was vacuuming and scrubbing and bathrooms. I was to be more like a slave than a babysitter. When I questioned him on that, he yelled at me and told me I was lucky to have this job and if I didn’t want it he was sure he could find somebody else who would be more grateful. Then he left for work.

I pondered my fate as much as any ten-year-old could and thankfully, Kerry came home first. I left their house, but instead of running home, I passed by my house and headed for Grandma’s house. Grandma always had good advice. She was washing dishes when I came in, but she sat with me at the table so we could have a good talk. After I spilled out everything, she looked at me with that silly little smile of hers, the one that meant don’t argue. “Well,” she said. “You can go there every day and bring home $20 a week, or you can sit around the house watching TV and have nothing by the end of the summer.”

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That was it. You know what I did. I took the job. She was right, I had money and I blew it all on candy and junky toys and crap and by the end of the summer I had nothing. Sadly, the only thing I really learned from the experience was that at 10 years old I could work really hard and it meant nothing and I was worth almost nothing. I still have issues with this and tend to devalue my own work…wow, maybe I need to get a therapist or at least a healthy dose of blog friend sympathy.

How about you? Do you tell others what you are worth or do you let them tell you?

This is the Place

My sweetie works for a large government contractor here in the Salt Lake Valley. Every year they have a family summer picnic and this year it was at This is the Place park. This is the Place is set up like a pioneer village with a nod to Utah’s heritage. The party ran from 10:00 – 3:00 and we showed up about 10:30. The main parking lot was already full even though the park was closed for the private event. We wrapped red wristbands around each kid’s wrist as they climbed out of the van. That was it…everything else was free including lunch and snacks!

The first thing the kids wanted to do was ride the ponies. So we hiked a couple of blocks to the pony rides. Walking with my grandsons is always an adventure. Six-year-old Taco pointed to two brown cows lazily munching hay. “Those brown cows have chocolate milk!” he announced proudly. City kid. “No they don’t,” I commented. Undeterred, he responded. “They must be happy. They’re wagging their tails!”

After all the kids had turns on the ponies, we headed into the petting zoo. The kids loved feeding and petting the baby goats. They followed the pot-bellied pig around, but he wasn’t much interested in them. Some of the little bit bigger goats came right over to the stroller to see if we had anything better than hay to feed them. They took off quick when Baby Doll hollered after one of them licked her toe!

Bean Dip and Sport were interested in earning a This is the Place cub scout badge, so we had a few activities that we had to do. They learned to write their name is “Deseret” which is a phonics alphabet used by the pioneers. They had to play some pioneer games and discover a little history, but it didn’t take too long and we were on our way again.

We passed through an area filled with beautiful yellow sunflowers. Teach remarked, “Look at all these sunflowers!” Curly dropped her hand in a huff. “They’re not dumb-flowers,” he responded, “They’re beautiful!” I think somebody needs his ears checked…

We rode the trains and ate lunch, panned for gold and watched a train robbery. They had a building all set up for crafts. The kids got to bend a nail into a ring, make a whirly-gig, tie an arrowhead necklace, and decorate a small bag. They even launched salt water taffy from a cannon! There were definitely lots more black ones than normal.
Bean Dip got stung by a bee and that made for a few exciting moments, but after a little ice and a wagon ride to distract him, he started to feel better.

The park had booths giving out free kettle corn and roasted corn-on-the-cob (I ate three!). The kids also had their fill of licorice and gummy worms. We were sad and a little surprised when 3:00 o’clock rolled around so quickly. As we walked toward the gate, Teach and I slipped into the “corn” line one last time. As I pulled down the husk and carefully bit into that delicious buttery corn, I definitely had to agree…This is the Place…for tons of fun!

Sweetie

I don’t know why I start these silly traditions…but since it’s Fathers’ Day week, I’m just going to have to tell you a little about my sweetie. First, let me say that he doesn’t like to be in the spotlight and he will be annoyed that I shared him with you. Second, because he is the most amazing guy on earth, he will forgive me for embarrassing him.

I’ve already told you how we met and fell in love and all that mushy stuff back in February during Valentine’s Week. So we will make it easy. I will just tell you about today…a rather typical crazy day at our house.

My sweetie is an Electronics Design Engineer by trade and he usually works four 10-hour days on the other side of the valley. Now that the kids are out of school, I usually wave to him from my sleep-induced stupor as he heads out the door at the crack of dawn. Sometimes he sleeps in a little and goes in a bit later, but on those days the kids hardly get to see him because when you do the math, if he goes in at 9:00, the earliest he can come home is 7:00.

So this morning was one of those days, we turned off the early alarm and decided to snuggle for an extra hour before he headed out. While he was in the shower, I got a call from my SIL asking me if I could run over to his house and jump-start his car. I moaned and rolled over, sliding Baby Doll to the center of the bed. I don’t like early mornings and it was still early…My sweetie calmly agreed to make the 15-minute drive and take care of the ailing vehicle.

I assumed he would head off to work after that. Imagine my surprise when he showed up again 45 minutes later with Burrito in tow! “I’m taking the day off work!” he announced. “I want to get the backyard in shape for you before Sport’s birthday party on Friday.” I was absolutely thrilled with this news since I was dreading the yard work that would definitely fall to me when the girls left for girls’ camp on Tuesday. He had the older kids organized within the half-hour and soon they were all working together in the backyard. I kept the younger ones inside and we tackled the kitchen and the other areas on the main floor including my monstrously high pile of clean laundry that I hadn’t been able to get to over the crazy weekend. 

We took a break for lunch and he herded them all back outside to put in another few hours. By 3:00, everything was looking good (Except for the patio furniture; I’m supposed to be making new cushions…I’ve been working on them for almost a month now.) My sweetie and the Dog Walker had moved an entire pickup full of rocks to fill in an area that was full of weeds this morning. 

Yet he still came in the house, tired, but cheerful and helped all the kids make wooden racecars from our Home Depot kits. He finished putting together his little kid trampoline (a Fathers’ Day gift so he wouldn’t have to worry about Curly getting hurt on the big tramp), and watched the kids play for a bit. He also tilled our huge sand-pile so the sand is nice and soft for the kids to play in and then he sprayed the entire area for bugs so they wouldn’t cause problems at the party. 

After a quick shower he ran the Dog Walker over to the park so he could check on his geocache…which had disappeared, btw…He returned just in time to grab a bite to eat and then we all watched a movie for FHE. He is like this every day, working hard to make my life better and easier. He still calls me his “Arm Candy” when we go out and he tells me I’m beautiful, even though I know my 46-year-old self is nothing like the 18-year-old girl he married. I am so glad that we found each other and plan to spend the rest of forever together. I love him to pieces…Did I embarrass you too much, Sweetie? You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Thanks for being the father of my children. Happy Fathers’ Day!

I guess you can say we have good chemistry!