Celebrating Work Easier than Doing It

Labor Day is always celebrated the first Monday in September. That’s because, even back in the 1800s when Congress made it a federal holiday, everyone wanted to sleep in on Monday mornings.

After you finally wake up this Labor Day I invite to join me in thinking about work. Don’t do any. Just think about it. Think about the jobs you’ve had and all they’ve taught you. Think about how what you’ve done for a living has formed you into the unique person you are. After that think about going back to bed. You’ve earned the rest.

I spent the majority of my working life as a public relations professional for a wonderful nonprofit. But like many people my first jobs were in the restaurant business, first as a dishwasher and then as a server. There are few better jobs for teaching one about human behavior than waiting tables. People are cranky when they’re tired and hungry. And they get crankier when you forget to put their order in or bring them a chicken dinner when they ordered a ribeye.

But as a teenager the hardest part for me was that people got hungry so darned early in the morning. And when you wait tables the size of your income depends entirely on how friendly, efficient and awake you are all day, every day. I happen to know that when you’re tired yourself, it’s hard to be friendly to people who haven’t had their coffee yet.

I also learned about faith and forgiveness working at a restaurant. Every Sunday morning the church crowd rushed in, everyone hoping to enjoy one of the restaurant’s famous caramel rolls. I don’t recall the exact order now, but let’s say the Lutherans dismissed first. That left the Congregationalists praying, “Oh Lord, let there be caramel rolls left.” Often there were not, partly because the Catholics usually had services on Saturday night and the agnostics had no schedule at all. Watching the ensuing chaos, I learned how hard it is to practice brotherly love and forgiveness when one sits through a church service dreaming of caramel rolls and gets beat out by another denomination.

After I left the restaurant I worked for a short stint at a drive-in where I learned that when you get to eat your mistakes, you tend to make more of them.

I was working at a hardware store the day Elvis died. Other days too. I just remember that day more clearly than the rest. I do know the majority of my time was spent dusting which was lucky because I knew nothing about hardware. I’m proud to say that by the time I left for college I’d learned a few things; for example, a ten-penny nail doesn’t cost ten pennies and it’s a “joist,” not a “joyce.”

My only other retail job was in a state park gift shop where I worked one summer while I was in college. The main lesson one learns in retail is that when someone says, “The customer is always right,” what they really mean is, “The customer is the one with the money and if we want it, we need to treat him as though he’s always right whether he is or not.”

The following summer I cleaned cabins in Yellowstone National Park and I learned to appreciate people who do the job for longer than three months. Cleaning up after other people is hard work. It requires attention to detail and commitment to quality and no one even notices unless you do it badly. Plus when you’re a housekeeper there are all those beds and you can’t even nap.

It was also while I was in college that I began my career in radio, first as a news person. My boss called me after one of my first newscasts to tell me that before my next one I’d better change my name to Ann. He didn’t think anyone would take me seriously as Dorothy (and your little dog too!). I’m not sure anyone took me seriously as Ann either, especially changing my name mid-shift like that.

Eventually I became an announcer so it no longer mattered if anyone took me seriously. I spent the next ten years playing requests, giving the weather and sitting through countless sports broadcasts. While living in a small town in Iowa I worked for a daytime station which broadcast every sporting event the local students participated in. The broadcasts were carried over phone lines exactly like regular calls except that when a game was coming in the receiver was still in its cradle and the buttons on the phone didn’t light up. Even a thinking person could forget the phone was in use. And I wasn’t always thinking.

One night after two back-to-back basketball games, I signed off the station late and went home, only to be awakened by the phone at 5:30 a.m. My boss had discovered that I’d never disconnected the phone line. The station had been making a long-distance phone call for…oh…about fifteen hours. Fortunately I didn’t lose my job, but I’m still paying off the phone bill. Thank goodness for weekend rates.

In my current profession as a writer I’ve come to see the value in all of my work experiences, both the good and the bad. To misuse an old saying, that which doesn’t kill you gives you something else to write about.

Excerpt from ’Tis the Season to Feel Inadequate, Holidays, Special Occasions and Other Times Our Celebrations Get Out of Hand by Dorothy Rosby, coming in November 2022.

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