There has been a trend of late of people wishing to return to some sepia-toned recent past, where women had multiple kids who were magically clean and well-behaved, where every day was spent apple picking or carving pumpkins, and somehow the actual mundanity of daily life was completely absent.
Of course, this era never actually existed. Middle class white women in the 50’s & 60’s were frequently miserable, consuming bottles of wine that washed down quaaludes -and for everyone else? There was no halcyon to be found in those days.
Still, sometimes when I’m really stressed with work or other life responsibilities, I start thinking fondly about my high school job as grocery store cashier at Dominion.
A lot about the job wasn’t good! I had to wear an extremely hideous red polyester uniform. Nothing about it breathed. It was probably completely inflammable - or maybe extremely flammable. Either way, it was beyond uncomfortable.
I dealt with angry people every shift. People who would yell at me about the cost of their groceries, as though a teenager working the cash had the authority to set the prices. The person who made me coo at the cheap plastic bags to ‘please not break’ and wouldn’t stop until I said it after packing each one. The woman who lost it on me, screaming and swearing - because we didn’t have debit machines yet (yes, I am old!)
I also really wasn’t a very good employee. I thought I was. We had these metrics that were posted in the office - how fast we scanned items, how few bags we used to pack, if our cash register matched the receipts etc. I was always number 1 - which was all management really cared about.
But almost all my shifts were staffed by other kids from my school. We had minimal to no supervision. I would invite my friends to come visit me. They would stand at the end of my lane, and I would chatter away while scanning customers’ groceries and completely ignoring them. I wouldn’t wear my glasses out of an absurd vanity and then misread the totals. We would take bags of chips and cookies off the shelf and snack, declaring it ‘an employee discount’.
I realize now though that in many ways it was still a foundational part of my adolescence. Not necessarily because I learned responsibility; I started babysitting at 11(!!??) - (a story for another day).
More for the social learnings. I would have passionate crushes on the stock boys, offering to help them ‘get the carts from the parking lot’ so I could carve out some coveted alone time. We’d cash out and hand our tills over to the midnight shift (it was a 24 hour store), punching our time cards and it almost felt like something out of a movie. It was real life without being real. We weren’t keeping our lights on with our $7.25 an hour. We were getting cash for movies and Timbits.
I think for me, it was my first step towards freedom, something as a kid you yearn for - believing that being an adult meant being able to eat whatever you want and stay up as late as you want - and that this was basically the full experience you were missing out on. Bills piling up, hard choices, getting up every morning to go to a job you might hate - none of that reality ever penetrated my head back then.
It seems like what we’re actually craving is a return to a time when we had almost no obligations or responsibilities. When someone else took care of that for us. And definitely not everyone had that as a child. But it makes sense. We live in times when the worst people are also the loudest. They’re centered in everything we see/read/consume. They take up so much oxygen it starts to feel like there’s nothing left for the rest of us.
What we’re really missing is feeling safe. That we are cared for too. That we can trust our neighbour. I still like to believe that people are mostly good. But I also understand now that it’s my obligation to make people safe with me.
And I will always treat cashiers like royalty. Because I know. And because I remember.
I also would like to go back to the rubbish jobs that I briefly and unsuccessfully held in my teens.
Not that I want to do the jobs themselves, but if I were back in that time then it would mean that I have a chance to go round again, and hopefully to do some things a bit better this time.
But that's not how it works! Better make the most of what time I have left, I guess...