MEDIA WRITING STUDENTS RESPOND TO THE BIG QUESTION:
What was the worst or best job you've ever had? Tell us the story!!!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
My Experience In The Mini-Donut Factory
My Favorite Summer Job
By Anna Mae M. Tollefson
Working in a food stand at a fair can be hard work, but it is also quite fun. Let me show you. As best as I can remember it happened like this:
“Don’t forget the key,” Mary said. “I’ve got it,” LeRoy answered. Thud, thud. . .thud went the doors of the pickup. We moseyed toward the back of the stand, and LeRoy stepped up to unlock and open the door. Mary and I waited while LeRoy looked at the lock for a few moments. It was a dial combination padlock instead of a normal key padlock.
We realized LeRoy’s wife Jane must have accidently put the wrong lock on the door of the stand! So LeRoy called her. “Jane, you put the wrong lock on the door.” She said she didn’t think she had but must have acted without thinking. He asked, “Well, do you know what the combination is?” She could not remember.
He looked at it a little longer, and then said he would be back. He returned a few minutes later with an electric drill from one of his friends to remove the locking mechanism. He also had to use the drill to lock up at night too; we used that for the rest of our stay.
What? You are a little confused about what is going on? Alright, I will back up a bit for you.
In the summer of 2009 Jane Opdahl asked me, “Would you be able to help out at our mini-donut stand?” Jane and LeRoy needed extra help for the particularly busy week of the Fourth of July for their business, the Mini Donut Factory. It was the only week all summer they operated two stands simultaneously at two different events – the Polk County Fair in Fertile and the Bemidji Water Carnival.
They asked me to work at the Bemidji Water Carnival with LeRoy and Mary, my aunt. Jane and two other employees had worked the first two or three days of the Water Carnival, but they were returning to Fertile to run that stand along with many more part-time employees.
Did we have to wear uniforms? No, not really. We wore plain white tee-shirts with the Mini Donut Factory embroidered in red on them and a red neckline and sleeve cuffs. We could wear any type of pants or shorts we wanted, as long as we would be comfortable in them all day.
How did we keep track of how many donuts we had sold? Well I will tell you there is a simple little trick that makes it very easy. We used large paper clips to keep track of how many bags we sold. My aunt and I would put 25 bags in each clip till we ran out of paper clips. There weren’t too many since there were already some bags clipped in the box of loose bags where they stayed until we needed to use them.
That reminds me -- LeRoy and Jane stayed in semi-regular contact throughout the day, usually talking about if their separate donut machines were giving them trouble or not. They also had a light competition going on to see which stand had sold the most donuts; they compared the amount of clips that had been collected at each stand. It was all in fun, but Fertile won the first two days I worked. But, on the Fourth of July, more people came wanting donuts, and we worked longer and harder than the other nights and we beat Fertile!
Oh! I have not told you much about the donuts themselves or how they are made, have I? Well, there was a bowl shaped part of the donut machine that would drop the donut shaped dough in to hot lard, where they would be cooked on one side as the traveled down the length of the machine. About halfway down, they would get flipped over by a built in scoop so the other side would get cooked, and at last be flipped by another scoop out of the cooking lard onto a tray with paper towels and a rack in it. We used a hand scooper to put the donuts into bags for our customers.
Sometimes there would be a few donuts left over on the rack that wouldn’t fit in the bag; we were allowed to eat those ones! They tasted so good; like warm, fluffy, and slightly sweetened bread. I didn’t want to get sick eating too many, so I didn’t eat a lot of donuts, though I really wanted more.
You want to know about the hours? Well, we usually got to the stand about 9 to 10 a.m., but Mary and I did not start working 'til 11 a.m. and we all would finish up by 11 or 12 at night. We had a few breaks throughout the day including meal times, and had a lot of fun conversations during our non-break downtimes, though I cannot tell you what they were about now.
The whole experience was good for me and a lot fun besides. Working in the Mini Donut Factory was my favorite summer job, and even though it was a lot of work, I would readily do it again.
It's The Small Things That Matter
My First Job Experience
By Mikwam Thomas
When we first get a job, we don’t notice any of the small things that contribute to job happiness. We are too involved in learning the new, more major aspects of the job. But once we get into routines and get comfortable with our surrounding and the people we work with, that’s when the small things start to make their presence felt and make a good situation into a bad one.
My first job was at a grocery store working as a bagger and the job started out great. I liked the people I worked with, and the job wasn’t too demanding because all I had to do was put groceries in a paper or plastic bag. When I started to show solid working skills they moved me to cashier, the start of a long hatred.
As a cashier, my main job was obviously to check out people’s food and household goods. The job got to be very repetitive because at the register I would stand in the same two places for my whole shift. I stood either at the front of the register to wait for customers who were ready to buy their items, or at the register in front of the computer screen.
The repetitive aspects didn’t stop there. The conversations, after about a month, became so common I basically knew what they were going to say next. It’s always about the weather, the biggest national or international news story, or about the local sports teams. Also, I made the same movements all day from the front of the register, to the computer screen to check out the items. Then the same conversation I’ve had 20 times today to finally saying, “have a nice day.” All of this to just move on and start it all over again with the next customer.
After working as a cashier I noticed how nice people were when you were carrying out their groceries, compared to when you are taking their money. I got a lot more complaints about the pricing of the food and I got a lot more disrespect because they felt I was to blame for the inaccuracies. “I just ring the food up,” became my official slogan for when customers wanted me to solve a problem that was out of my hands.
The repetitive nature of the job and the attitude of customers toward me made for long and boring days. All of this I could handle, but that is when the management started to show their true side. Employees got treated as peons and I was no different. I never felt as though I had a secure job because I saw so many employees either leave or get fired over the smallest things. A co-worker who had been employed for four years with the company got fired for eating a donut that was to be thrown away because it had been sitting out for the whole day.
Management also became very hypocritical. We weren’t allowed to talk to one another while standing at the register because it took away our attention from the customers. This is understandable, but when a manager sits down with a friend who doesn’t even work at the store then starts to have a conversation while the “peons” are working, isn’t leading by example.
The feeling of being a “peon” went even further when after 3 years of working, I wasn’t granted a raise. In order to get that raise that I deserved, I applied at several different companies which got my then current managers to give me a raise. I began to see the down-side of my job and management and looked deeper and realized that even though I liked the people I worked with, I had to leave.
This job was an eye opener for me. I have since looked past just the main aspects of any job I am applying for, and haven’t had a similar experience. Yes, no job is completely perfect and there are always going to be some problems, but I found that it is the small things that make every day bearable or unbearable.
By Mikwam Thomas
When we first get a job, we don’t notice any of the small things that contribute to job happiness. We are too involved in learning the new, more major aspects of the job. But once we get into routines and get comfortable with our surrounding and the people we work with, that’s when the small things start to make their presence felt and make a good situation into a bad one.
My first job was at a grocery store working as a bagger and the job started out great. I liked the people I worked with, and the job wasn’t too demanding because all I had to do was put groceries in a paper or plastic bag. When I started to show solid working skills they moved me to cashier, the start of a long hatred.
As a cashier, my main job was obviously to check out people’s food and household goods. The job got to be very repetitive because at the register I would stand in the same two places for my whole shift. I stood either at the front of the register to wait for customers who were ready to buy their items, or at the register in front of the computer screen.
The repetitive aspects didn’t stop there. The conversations, after about a month, became so common I basically knew what they were going to say next. It’s always about the weather, the biggest national or international news story, or about the local sports teams. Also, I made the same movements all day from the front of the register, to the computer screen to check out the items. Then the same conversation I’ve had 20 times today to finally saying, “have a nice day.” All of this to just move on and start it all over again with the next customer.
After working as a cashier I noticed how nice people were when you were carrying out their groceries, compared to when you are taking their money. I got a lot more complaints about the pricing of the food and I got a lot more disrespect because they felt I was to blame for the inaccuracies. “I just ring the food up,” became my official slogan for when customers wanted me to solve a problem that was out of my hands.
The repetitive nature of the job and the attitude of customers toward me made for long and boring days. All of this I could handle, but that is when the management started to show their true side. Employees got treated as peons and I was no different. I never felt as though I had a secure job because I saw so many employees either leave or get fired over the smallest things. A co-worker who had been employed for four years with the company got fired for eating a donut that was to be thrown away because it had been sitting out for the whole day.
Management also became very hypocritical. We weren’t allowed to talk to one another while standing at the register because it took away our attention from the customers. This is understandable, but when a manager sits down with a friend who doesn’t even work at the store then starts to have a conversation while the “peons” are working, isn’t leading by example.
The feeling of being a “peon” went even further when after 3 years of working, I wasn’t granted a raise. In order to get that raise that I deserved, I applied at several different companies which got my then current managers to give me a raise. I began to see the down-side of my job and management and looked deeper and realized that even though I liked the people I worked with, I had to leave.
This job was an eye opener for me. I have since looked past just the main aspects of any job I am applying for, and haven’t had a similar experience. Yes, no job is completely perfect and there are always going to be some problems, but I found that it is the small things that make every day bearable or unbearable.
The Worst Job I Ever Had
My Misadventures With Stray Carts And A Pothead
By David Teeples
The worst job I have ever had began the summer after my freshman year in high school. It was nearing the end of the summer break and I realized my annual birthday and Christmas gifts would not provide financially for the needs of a teenage male. At the time of this revelation I was living in Whitefish, Mont. After a few days of searching I decided to apply for a job at the local Super One grocery store.
I obtained the position of courtesy clerk with no difficulties and soon was regularly asking grocery shoppers “paper or plastic” while hurriedly stuffing items like baby carrots and Lucky Charms into the bags of their choice.
At first, this was not my worst job ever. Actually it was a pretty good job, but there were times when I could not handle it. At Super One I would often work shifts from 6 to 10 p.m. This shift was the last one worked by courtesy clerks, such as myself, so extra responsibilities were required. These included emptying the trash cans, putting back food customers had chosen not to purchase, and making sure all the carts in the parking lot were brought back to the designated cart areas. I did not mind putting away the trash; I would often tell the 5-9 worker to do it. Putting away food did not bother me either because it made my last hour go by faster.
The job that really made me angry was fetching the lost carts. The grocery store was attached to the Mountain Mall in Whitefish. Therefore, the parking lot was extra large and wrapped around the building. Super One Foods was on the far northern end of the building, and from there the mall moved in a southeasterly direction. So the parking lot was a large mass of concrete that ran from north to southeast with a McDonald’s in the northeast corner. The last carts to be shepherded in by me, the humble courtesy clerk, were the farthest away. On numerous occasions I would have to walk to the other end of the mall just to retrieve one lost cart. In the process of doing so, I was still hungry from only consuming a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner and smelling the delicious odors of greasy french fries and mediocre burgers would make my stomach gurgle. As much as I hated the sore feet and cold hands I got from herding in the carts, this aspect of my position was not the most terrible part of the job.
We acquired a new employee at Super One Foods who made my life miserable. He did not mean to get under my fingernails and pry them from my skin, metaphorically of course; he just was always under the influence of marijuana. Usually I could avoid him and get lost in my tasks at hand. On some days, however, when it was slow, we would have to work together stocking shelves. He was not a bad person but he lengthened the time spent trying to get something done so I could go home. When reshelving our conversation would usually go like this,
“Whoa! Dude what does this say?”
“Cut green beans,” I would graciously reply.
“Oh my god!” He would laugh, “I think they printed this smaller!”
“No, no they didn’t."
“Yes they did man!” I could see the frustration growing in his face, a confused look in his eye.
He would than quickly look away and then back at me, “Do you want to smoke with me at lunch tomorrow?”
“Not really, but thanks.” The conversation would continue like that until I finished putting the cans on the shelf.
My job at Super One Foods was my first job and my worst job. But overall, it was a good job. I made more money than I ever did before and started my savings account. Today I am proud to say I was a courtesy clerk at Super One because it gave me good work experience. I am also content with being done with that job for good and moving on to better experiences in my life.
By David Teeples
The worst job I have ever had began the summer after my freshman year in high school. It was nearing the end of the summer break and I realized my annual birthday and Christmas gifts would not provide financially for the needs of a teenage male. At the time of this revelation I was living in Whitefish, Mont. After a few days of searching I decided to apply for a job at the local Super One grocery store.
I obtained the position of courtesy clerk with no difficulties and soon was regularly asking grocery shoppers “paper or plastic” while hurriedly stuffing items like baby carrots and Lucky Charms into the bags of their choice.
At first, this was not my worst job ever. Actually it was a pretty good job, but there were times when I could not handle it. At Super One I would often work shifts from 6 to 10 p.m. This shift was the last one worked by courtesy clerks, such as myself, so extra responsibilities were required. These included emptying the trash cans, putting back food customers had chosen not to purchase, and making sure all the carts in the parking lot were brought back to the designated cart areas. I did not mind putting away the trash; I would often tell the 5-9 worker to do it. Putting away food did not bother me either because it made my last hour go by faster.
The job that really made me angry was fetching the lost carts. The grocery store was attached to the Mountain Mall in Whitefish. Therefore, the parking lot was extra large and wrapped around the building. Super One Foods was on the far northern end of the building, and from there the mall moved in a southeasterly direction. So the parking lot was a large mass of concrete that ran from north to southeast with a McDonald’s in the northeast corner. The last carts to be shepherded in by me, the humble courtesy clerk, were the farthest away. On numerous occasions I would have to walk to the other end of the mall just to retrieve one lost cart. In the process of doing so, I was still hungry from only consuming a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner and smelling the delicious odors of greasy french fries and mediocre burgers would make my stomach gurgle. As much as I hated the sore feet and cold hands I got from herding in the carts, this aspect of my position was not the most terrible part of the job.
We acquired a new employee at Super One Foods who made my life miserable. He did not mean to get under my fingernails and pry them from my skin, metaphorically of course; he just was always under the influence of marijuana. Usually I could avoid him and get lost in my tasks at hand. On some days, however, when it was slow, we would have to work together stocking shelves. He was not a bad person but he lengthened the time spent trying to get something done so I could go home. When reshelving our conversation would usually go like this,
“Whoa! Dude what does this say?”
“Cut green beans,” I would graciously reply.
“Oh my god!” He would laugh, “I think they printed this smaller!”
“No, no they didn’t."
“Yes they did man!” I could see the frustration growing in his face, a confused look in his eye.
He would than quickly look away and then back at me, “Do you want to smoke with me at lunch tomorrow?”
“Not really, but thanks.” The conversation would continue like that until I finished putting the cans on the shelf.
My job at Super One Foods was my first job and my worst job. But overall, it was a good job. I made more money than I ever did before and started my savings account. Today I am proud to say I was a courtesy clerk at Super One because it gave me good work experience. I am also content with being done with that job for good and moving on to better experiences in my life.
It's Not About What You Know, But Who You Know
Caribou Coffee Has Been The Best Job And The Worst Job I’ve Ever Had
By Morgan Krause
Being a Caribou Coffee barista has its perks and its downfalls just like any other job. Crazy co-workers, friendly customers, and the pure joy of making someone’s day with a cup of coffee are just a few of the many delights that go along with the job. It all started at the Keg n’ Cork, through my mom and her many connections throughout Bemidji.
My mom, sister, and I were waiting for my aunt to celebrate her birthday. I had yet to meet Julie, but of course she knew my mom. They immediately greeted each other with smiles and friendly conversation. I was not paying much attention and tuned out the conversation until my mom asked that fateful question; “How’s business at Caribou these days?” Julie quickly responded by saying, “I won’t be there much longer. My husband is supposed to get a job on the pipeline so I had to put my two months in considering I’m the manager.” With the conversation catching my attention, I was eager to ask if the company was at all looking to hire on any new employees. I was told by Julie to turn in an application and she would probably hire me. Having no previous “real job” experience before hand, I was eager for the phone call telling me I had landed an interview.
Days and days went by and still no call. I was starting to get nervous and was even wondering if she would call at all. I was sitting in class when I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. As much as I wanted to answer, doing so would result in me getting my phone taken away. The wait to hear the news drove me crazy; all I could focus on was whether or not I got the interview. Finally school ended and I could check my messages. Julie had called and a huge relief was lifted from my chest, she wanted me in as soon as possible to sit down and have a chat.
I had one goal on my mind and that was getting to Caribou as quickly as possible. While opening the door, the smell of fresh espresso drinks and ground coffee filled my senses. It felt different walking into Caribou today than it had at other times. Today was special and I knew that whatever Julie was a bout to say was in some way going to be in my favor. I was invited to the back room by another employee and was told to just chill out and wait for her to come. The minutes seemed to take forever and the waiting was starting to get the best of me when she walked in. “Welcome to your new job at Caribou Coffee” was the first thing Julie said. I was shocked! I at least thought she would want to further interview me to make sure I was right for the position. Overjoyed with a slue of emotions I finally had an honest job and was eager to start. Without giving much direction, she gave me my first task of being to work on Saturday morning by 6:00 am. It was an early start, but I couldn’t complain, she had given me the gift of a job.
I started my job and, in time, Julie eventually left the company. I never realized it, but she made the world of a difference to me by working at Caribou Coffee. She had an infectious personality, an amazing work ethic, and most of all was a joy to work with. Losing her changed Caribou and not for the better. It’s a shame that the store hasn’t done well since she left but I’m one of the fortunate few people left that had the pleasure to work with her. If it wasn’t for Julie, I wouldn’t have the job I do today and I will always be grateful to her for that.
The Sweet Summer Job
Working At A Beer Distributing Company Was A Lot Of Fun
After working at Dick’s Sales this summer I learned a lot of new skills and was a great experience
By Riley Hirsch
Last summer I worked for Dick’s Sales, a beer distributing company based in Little Falls, Minn. It was very convenient for me, since that’s my home town. I was not a salesman, but I rode along in the delivery truck which stopped at different bars and liquor stores. All the up to Longville, Minn., 83.6 miles north This was the best job I have ever had. I got to meet a lot of great people, I found out that it is a lot harder than it looks, and I had a lot of fun.
Everyday was a new experience; I would get up around 6:00 a.m. and head to work. The people I met on deliveries were all very nice, but if you were to catch them on a bad day it was not pretty. My company had great people; they were all very nice to us helpers. They would never get mad and always asked how things were going and made sure we were always doing great. They would work with our schedule, so if I needed to take time off, I just told them and they would understand.
The first two weeks of the job were very hard. I had to learn the stores and make sure you put the alcohol where they wanted. The mornings were the worst for me; I am not a very good morning person. On the truck I would fall asleep and wake up at our first stop ready to go. After the first two weeks you got the hang of it and knew where you were and where everything was supposed to be. We were always on the move at a stop, working hard so you can get in out of there for the customers. Some of the driver’s would say” work smart not hard” and it is true, you can do something that is so easy but make it really hard on you. Some days we would have around 1,000 cases on a truck; those were the worst because I would not get home until 9:00 pm. Other days we would have around 500 hundred cases and be home around 4:00 p.m.
I had a lot of fun doing this job. We went around the areas of Longville, Minnesota delivering beer, riding on the truck just talking, and just messing around. Every Friday we would wash the trucks, but we basically just messed around soaking each other. The company supplied us with uniforms of the different types of beer we delivered. That was also a nice thing, because we got all of these nice polo’s to and a pair of pants wear around and everyone would ask where we got them. We were spoiled and it was great. My favorite thing to wear was the Coors Light with khaki pants.
After working at Dick’s Sales this summer I learned a lot of new skills and was a great experience
By Riley Hirsch
Last summer I worked for Dick’s Sales, a beer distributing company based in Little Falls, Minn. It was very convenient for me, since that’s my home town. I was not a salesman, but I rode along in the delivery truck which stopped at different bars and liquor stores. All the up to Longville, Minn., 83.6 miles north This was the best job I have ever had. I got to meet a lot of great people, I found out that it is a lot harder than it looks, and I had a lot of fun.
Everyday was a new experience; I would get up around 6:00 a.m. and head to work. The people I met on deliveries were all very nice, but if you were to catch them on a bad day it was not pretty. My company had great people; they were all very nice to us helpers. They would never get mad and always asked how things were going and made sure we were always doing great. They would work with our schedule, so if I needed to take time off, I just told them and they would understand.
The first two weeks of the job were very hard. I had to learn the stores and make sure you put the alcohol where they wanted. The mornings were the worst for me; I am not a very good morning person. On the truck I would fall asleep and wake up at our first stop ready to go. After the first two weeks you got the hang of it and knew where you were and where everything was supposed to be. We were always on the move at a stop, working hard so you can get in out of there for the customers. Some of the driver’s would say” work smart not hard” and it is true, you can do something that is so easy but make it really hard on you. Some days we would have around 1,000 cases on a truck; those were the worst because I would not get home until 9:00 pm. Other days we would have around 500 hundred cases and be home around 4:00 p.m.
I had a lot of fun doing this job. We went around the areas of Longville, Minnesota delivering beer, riding on the truck just talking, and just messing around. Every Friday we would wash the trucks, but we basically just messed around soaking each other. The company supplied us with uniforms of the different types of beer we delivered. That was also a nice thing, because we got all of these nice polo’s to and a pair of pants wear around and everyone would ask where we got them. We were spoiled and it was great. My favorite thing to wear was the Coors Light with khaki pants.
Who Would Want a 6 a.m. Wake-Up Call Every Day in the Summer?
Some Do and Here’s How They Would Love Nothing Better
By Jordan George
Over my twenty-year life span so far, I’ve had many jobs ranging from outdoor labor to work in an office. With having so many jobs, I had the opportunity to experience what work is like in many job categories. I had fun doing a lot of them and others not so much. With that being said, I’m going to tell you about my best job I have worked so far in my young career.
It all started in the summer of 2009, when my best friend became the number one golfer in the state of Wisconsin for his age. Playing golf everyday and getting paid for medaling in tournaments was the goal for that summer. That’s where I came in and became a fulltime personal caddy for him. A caddy is a person who carries the golfer’s clubs around the course and offers advice on how to approach the course. There are many caddies in the game of golf, but what makes a good one is your ability to offer advice, help the golfer keep positive thoughts and the ability to follow golf etiquette.
A typical day of caddying consists of many things. I had to clean and polish clubs before and after every round, wipe off the golf ball every time it had a speck of dirt or grass on it, count the shots it took to get it in the cup, provide personal advice on how to tackle the course, and most importantly I had to make sure my golfer didn’t lose his temper and get disqualified. I think it’s important to be good friends with your golfer. It helps with offering advice because when you respect your caddy, you really take in and consider the advice giving. When the golfer and I approach the ball, a conversation might go something like this.
“ What you thinking here George, 5 iron or 6 iron?”
“ Ah well there is a small stream running across the course 170 yards up.”
“ I’m thinking about hitting the 6 iron and laying up short of the green.”
“ Go for the green, you got a powerful swing and the ability to land the ball on the green”
“ You think so?”
“ Yah go for it buddy, pretend the stream is not there and swing away.”
A lot of times my golfer is responsive and likes my input on things. When he is hitting the ball poorly, I like to be there and help him gain that confidence back.
There were many factors on why I loved this job such as the pay, working out in the beautiful sunshine, and how I could have so much fun with friend watching and learning the game I love. This job made it possible for me to have fun and get paid very well throughout the summer. Getting anywhere from 1st place to 10th place meant that I was walking home with at least 100 dollars in my pocket. This job kept me close to competitive golf and taught me a lot about the game. To top it all off who wouldn’t love to help a friend, get paid having fun, and be out in the gorgeous sun shining down on you watching one of the greatest sports in the world.
By Jordan George
Over my twenty-year life span so far, I’ve had many jobs ranging from outdoor labor to work in an office. With having so many jobs, I had the opportunity to experience what work is like in many job categories. I had fun doing a lot of them and others not so much. With that being said, I’m going to tell you about my best job I have worked so far in my young career.
It all started in the summer of 2009, when my best friend became the number one golfer in the state of Wisconsin for his age. Playing golf everyday and getting paid for medaling in tournaments was the goal for that summer. That’s where I came in and became a fulltime personal caddy for him. A caddy is a person who carries the golfer’s clubs around the course and offers advice on how to approach the course. There are many caddies in the game of golf, but what makes a good one is your ability to offer advice, help the golfer keep positive thoughts and the ability to follow golf etiquette.
A typical day of caddying consists of many things. I had to clean and polish clubs before and after every round, wipe off the golf ball every time it had a speck of dirt or grass on it, count the shots it took to get it in the cup, provide personal advice on how to tackle the course, and most importantly I had to make sure my golfer didn’t lose his temper and get disqualified. I think it’s important to be good friends with your golfer. It helps with offering advice because when you respect your caddy, you really take in and consider the advice giving. When the golfer and I approach the ball, a conversation might go something like this.
“ What you thinking here George, 5 iron or 6 iron?”
“ Ah well there is a small stream running across the course 170 yards up.”
“ I’m thinking about hitting the 6 iron and laying up short of the green.”
“ Go for the green, you got a powerful swing and the ability to land the ball on the green”
“ You think so?”
“ Yah go for it buddy, pretend the stream is not there and swing away.”
A lot of times my golfer is responsive and likes my input on things. When he is hitting the ball poorly, I like to be there and help him gain that confidence back.
There were many factors on why I loved this job such as the pay, working out in the beautiful sunshine, and how I could have so much fun with friend watching and learning the game I love. This job made it possible for me to have fun and get paid very well throughout the summer. Getting anywhere from 1st place to 10th place meant that I was walking home with at least 100 dollars in my pocket. This job kept me close to competitive golf and taught me a lot about the game. To top it all off who wouldn’t love to help a friend, get paid having fun, and be out in the gorgeous sun shining down on you watching one of the greatest sports in the world.
The Best Job in the Game of Baseball
A Day In The Life Of A Groundskeeper
By Matt Ellinghuysen
Baseball is America’s pastime and always will be, but many do not understand what all has to happen behind the scenes before the first pitch can even be thrown. This is where my job comes in. For the past three summers I have been the head of the baseball grounds crew for the city of Saint Charles, Minn.
Typical days start when I wake up around 9am or so, and go around to check all five baseball fields of which I am in charge. I am looking for things such as standing water if it had rained the previous night, or gaping holes which need to be filled in around high traffic areas such as first base, second base, the pitcher’s mound, and the home plate area which includes where the batters, catchers, and umpire stand. These areas must be patched up every day in order for a new game to begin.
On days when it rains I am usually prepared. I do this by watching the weather forecast on the television or checking it on the Internet. I also make sure my water pumps are clean, primed, and ready to go as well as, making sure I have enough Diamond Dry; That’s my go-to life saver in order to make the field playable for that night’s game. Diamond Dry is a kitty-litter type drying agent which when put down on the wet dirt and raked in, sucks all the moisture out of it before my eyes as if it were magic.
Another way I dry the baseball fields is by spike-dragging them with my Toro 2000 Sandpro, a three-wheeler that contains a drag and the back to groom the field and spikes I can put down to dig it up. On most days I spend more of my time on the Sandpro then I do on my feet. Spike dragging the field allows the clay to dry. Afterwards, it looks like crop land which has just been chiseled plowed and ready for planting. Even after all this work is done, some days Mother Nature has the upper hand and you cannot play; but as my high school baseball coach Scott McCready always reminds me, “Rain doesn’t mean rain-out.”
Being a head groundskeeper may sound easy to most, but when it all comes down to it, I am the deciding factor as to whether the game is to be played in bad weather. I also affect the way the game is played by the length of the grass when I cut it or things such as how the infield is dragged and what sort of hops the ball takes as it bounces toward an awaiting infielder. I like this control, because I feel I know what kind of field conditions the players want, considering I have been playing baseball for over 15 years now.
If nothing too major is wrong with the field, I begin to prep it by first raking around all the bases. After this I go to home plate and fill in the batter’s box with dirt and add water. Then after it is level, I will tamp down home plate so it will not erode from under a batter’s feet and so it is a level. Then I go to the pitcher’s mound and do the same thing I did to home plate which is fill in the holes, and level it off so the pitchers’ feel comfortable when pitching. After this I will hop onto the Toro Sandpro and lay down drag flat behind it. I usually start at the pitcher’s mound and drive a circle around it to groom the field and after this I just keep following the my path as the circle begins to get larger and larger and before you know it you have groomed the whole infield. Some people may think I spend too much time on each field, but I take pride in my work and jokingly tell them, “I treat the field as if it were my child.”
When the grooming is complete I lay down the chalk lines for the batter’s box and the foul lines. I use a wooden template which I lay chalk into for the batter’s box and for the foul lines I lay chalk down my laying down a string and pulling it tight to make sure there are no imperfections down the baselines, because one mix-up could affect the game. If it needs to be down I also paint the foul lines in the outfield, by again taking a string to make a straight line to the foul poles. After finishing getting a field ready for a game, I take a moment and look over the prized work I have just finished, only to realize also that tomorrow I will have to do it all over again.
Many would find my job as time consuming, boring, or maybe even dull, but I love what I do and take pride in it, and it is just one more way I can be involved in the beloved game of baseball even long after my playing days are over.
Toro Sandpro 2000
http://media.photobucket.com/image/sand%20pro%202000/sox1fan/People/Anderson_MaintForeman.jpg
Groomed infield
http://www.whitlampaint.com/Baseball_Field1.JPG
By Matt Ellinghuysen
Baseball is America’s pastime and always will be, but many do not understand what all has to happen behind the scenes before the first pitch can even be thrown. This is where my job comes in. For the past three summers I have been the head of the baseball grounds crew for the city of Saint Charles, Minn.
Typical days start when I wake up around 9am or so, and go around to check all five baseball fields of which I am in charge. I am looking for things such as standing water if it had rained the previous night, or gaping holes which need to be filled in around high traffic areas such as first base, second base, the pitcher’s mound, and the home plate area which includes where the batters, catchers, and umpire stand. These areas must be patched up every day in order for a new game to begin.
On days when it rains I am usually prepared. I do this by watching the weather forecast on the television or checking it on the Internet. I also make sure my water pumps are clean, primed, and ready to go as well as, making sure I have enough Diamond Dry; That’s my go-to life saver in order to make the field playable for that night’s game. Diamond Dry is a kitty-litter type drying agent which when put down on the wet dirt and raked in, sucks all the moisture out of it before my eyes as if it were magic.
Another way I dry the baseball fields is by spike-dragging them with my Toro 2000 Sandpro, a three-wheeler that contains a drag and the back to groom the field and spikes I can put down to dig it up. On most days I spend more of my time on the Sandpro then I do on my feet. Spike dragging the field allows the clay to dry. Afterwards, it looks like crop land which has just been chiseled plowed and ready for planting. Even after all this work is done, some days Mother Nature has the upper hand and you cannot play; but as my high school baseball coach Scott McCready always reminds me, “Rain doesn’t mean rain-out.”
Being a head groundskeeper may sound easy to most, but when it all comes down to it, I am the deciding factor as to whether the game is to be played in bad weather. I also affect the way the game is played by the length of the grass when I cut it or things such as how the infield is dragged and what sort of hops the ball takes as it bounces toward an awaiting infielder. I like this control, because I feel I know what kind of field conditions the players want, considering I have been playing baseball for over 15 years now.
If nothing too major is wrong with the field, I begin to prep it by first raking around all the bases. After this I go to home plate and fill in the batter’s box with dirt and add water. Then after it is level, I will tamp down home plate so it will not erode from under a batter’s feet and so it is a level. Then I go to the pitcher’s mound and do the same thing I did to home plate which is fill in the holes, and level it off so the pitchers’ feel comfortable when pitching. After this I will hop onto the Toro Sandpro and lay down drag flat behind it. I usually start at the pitcher’s mound and drive a circle around it to groom the field and after this I just keep following the my path as the circle begins to get larger and larger and before you know it you have groomed the whole infield. Some people may think I spend too much time on each field, but I take pride in my work and jokingly tell them, “I treat the field as if it were my child.”
When the grooming is complete I lay down the chalk lines for the batter’s box and the foul lines. I use a wooden template which I lay chalk into for the batter’s box and for the foul lines I lay chalk down my laying down a string and pulling it tight to make sure there are no imperfections down the baselines, because one mix-up could affect the game. If it needs to be down I also paint the foul lines in the outfield, by again taking a string to make a straight line to the foul poles. After finishing getting a field ready for a game, I take a moment and look over the prized work I have just finished, only to realize also that tomorrow I will have to do it all over again.
Many would find my job as time consuming, boring, or maybe even dull, but I love what I do and take pride in it, and it is just one more way I can be involved in the beloved game of baseball even long after my playing days are over.
Toro Sandpro 2000
http://media.photobucket.com/image/sand%20pro%202000/sox1fan/People/Anderson_MaintForeman.jpg
Groomed infield
http://www.whitlampaint.com/Baseball_Field1.JPG
My Best AND Worst Job
Stepping Stones Daycare
By Jillian Cordova
Despite only having one real job my entire life, I can say with confidence that working at a daycare is perhaps the best and worst job. During my two years at Stepping Stones Daycare, I learned skills that changed the way I viewed not only children, but my own life as well. I gained knowledge that will greatly help me as a mother, and also acquired patience, understanding, and the meaning of true love. I have had other odd jobs throughout the years, but none has affected me quite as much as working at a daycare. Many people classify jobs as either bad or good, but I feel this job was both. For that, I am forever grateful.
Never in my life did I think that I, of all people, would work with kids. I had always said that I did not like children and would not have any of my own. In September 2008, these perceptions would greatly change. After being pressured by my father to get a job for some time, I finally applied at the daycare after my child development teacher said there was an opening. I took child development to fulfill my high school electives and never thought it would provide employment opportunities. I had attended Stepping Stones when I was little; I was cared for by Suzi Fosheim, who was now the director. Because of my history with her, it was fairly simple to get the job. I had never had any experience with kids, not even babysitting, but for some reason my new boss had faith that I could do it.
Shortly after getting the job, I was thrust into the world of tantrums, soiled diapers, illnesses, and picky eaters. Because I had never done any of it, it was sometimes overwhelming to deal with the toddlers and babies I was asked to help care for. One of the more difficult experiences was taught to me by my co-worker, Delila. We had been watching a group of one and two-year-olds outside, when she asked me if I was ready to change my first diaper. It was essential that I learn how, so I agreed. To my dismay, the little girl to whom I was assigned had completely soiled her diaper. I took her inside to the main building, grabbed a clean diaper and wipes, and headed to the changing room.
As soon as I removed her clothes, my nostrils became aware of the most disgusting odor I had ever smelled. I tried not to gag, but it was terrible. To make matters worse, the little girl started fussing and moving around; she apparently did not like me too much. By now, I had started to panic. I did not know what to do, and I did not want to have to ask Delila. I felt my pride was in jeopardy. I turned my nose and started to wipe and wipe for what seemed like an eternity, until finally, she was clean. This goal accomplished, I had to actually put the diaper on her. The first time I put it on backwards. The second time I was right, but could not get the tabs to stay because she was moving too much. Finally, and a good fifteen minutes later, I had finished my first diaper change.
Once that was finally mastered, I learned to fill bottles, feeding, being puked on, tantrums, back-talking, naptime, and many other firsts that, at times, knocked me off my feet. I tried to take them all in stride, because as time went on I grew to love and appreciate children much more than I ever had. They are full of life and happiness, and view the world in such a simple, yet poignant way. I once heard the quote, “Know what it is to be a child . . . To see a world in a grain of sand/ And heaven in a wild flower/Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand/ And Eternity in an hour”, and it touched me because of the truth it possesses.
Children are amazed by things we view insignificant; their minds are free from the garbage that inhabits ours and most of all, they think anything and everything is possible.I remember the first time I held and fed a newborn baby. His skin was soft, and his fingers and toes were so tiny that I could not believe something so wonderful could be produced by the human body. For the first time in my life, I saw love. It weighed no more than eight pounds, and enveloped me with something, to this day, I cannot describe. I do not think I will fully understand until the day I become a mother. Nevertheless, I grew to love the children at that daycare. The day I had to leave, I was never the same.
Coach House: How to Sell Cards and Influence People
By Kristina Dahl
I have been working at Coach House Gifts/Hallmark in the Paul Bunyan Mall for two years and six months, and it definitely has the potential to be both my best job, and my worst job. Maybe that’s because I’ve had only one other job that I count -- Taco John’s.
One might think that working at Taco John’s would be absolutely terrible, but that’s simply not true. I started on New Year’s Day 2006 at the age of 16. It was my first legit job; I had only worked before for one month as a personal care attendant for a seven-year-old girl with autism, which proved to be too difficult. Compared to being a PCA, Taco John’s was a dream. I was perfectly content chopping vegetables, dropping bags of meat in boiling water, mopping floors, washing tables, and taking orders. Unfortunately, I had to quit my dream job in August of the same year when my mother decided to up and move to Fargo, North Dakota.
I moved back to Bemidji when I was still 16 years old, just in time for the beginning of my junior year. At the end of my senior year at Trek North High School, I finally got my very first car, yes I know, I was a little late, but that was no one’s fault but my dad’s. My dad made me wait until I was 18 years old to get my driver’s license so our insurance rates wouldn’t go up. I got a 2001 Ford Focus, I called it gold but my dad insisted it was champagne. I got my license on June 4th 2008, a week or so after I graduated from high school. My dad wasn’t going to pay for my gas; it was time to find a job. I got in my car and drove to the mall, and I picked up applications from nearly every store.
I went back to my car, and filled out all my applications, and dropped them off at their respective places. At Coach House Gifts I asked to see the manager. For some reason I was reason I was really trying to pursue this particular job. What was wrong with me? I didn’t want to work in gift store, I’m too clumsy for one thing, and for another I’d rather be working at the music store across the hall. The manager was gone for training in Green Bay, Wisc., but the young woman behind the counter, who I came to know as Trista, said she would tell the manger to call me. Yeah right, I thought.
Weeks went by and I not received a single call from any of the places to which I had applied. Maybe it was because my only previous job was at Taco John’s? Perhaps. I knew I should have called the place I had applied at, but that sort of thing makes me nervous.
However, one day in July, I looked at my cell phone and saw that I had a missed call. I called the number back, prepared to say something like “Yeah I had a missed call from this number and I was wondering who it was?” but instead of answering with a simple “Hello,” the person on the other end replied with “Good Afternoon, Coach House Gifts, this is Sara; how can I help you?” I was shocked. They had called me back. I said something along the lines of, “Hi! My name is Kristina Dahl. I applied at your store a couple weeks ago. I saw that I had a missed call from this number; can I talk to the manager?” Sara was the manager, and she called because she wanted me to come in for an interview.
I guess my interview must have gone well although I felt very awkward the whole time, because she asked me to come back from training in a couple days. July 21st was my first official day of work. It took me awhile to learn the till. I often had to ask for help, but once I got it down, I was in love with it. I was a till hog. I didn't care too much for dusting glass shelves or straightening the plethora of greeting cards, but when I saw that a customer needed to be rung up and no employees were at the register, I dropped whatever I was doing and literally ran to the counter.
Although I often think of myself as socially awkward, I had no problem putting on a smile and greeting customers when they first came in the store, saying something such as "Hi! How are you doing? Is there anything I can help you find today? Well let me know if you have any questions." I came to find out that some people don't like this. They either give a monotone "Hi," simply smile, or don't even say anything. Sometimes they wouldn't even look at me. I found this rather disheartening, but I have always been a fan of killing with kindness, so I kept up my chipper attitude.
When a customer comes to the register, I say something slightly similar to what I would say when they first walk in the store: "Hi! How are you? Did you find everything okay?" They either give me an answer or they don't and this is when I decide whether to ask them if they have the Hallmark Gold Crown Card or not. "It's not a credit card. It's just a rewards card, a way to earn points, which turn into coupons that you can use on anything in the store. You get bonus points when you buy cards and Hallmark Keepsake Ornaments." This is where they say "Sure! Sign me up!" or "No thanks, not today." If they have cards I ask them if they want gold seals. Typical responses are "Yes, please," "Not necessary," and "What's that?" which is a question mainly asked by the male population; they usually don't get the gold seals.
A year went by, and my manager Sara was leaving so she could get married to her fiancé Pat, and pursue her education at the Northwest Technical College. The search was on for a new manager, and I was really hoping it wasn't the creepy guy who dropped off the five-pound resume. Sara and our district manager, Dona (if you saw her, you’d understand why her name only has one N), decided to go with a woman named Michelle; she was currently manager at one of my coworker's second jobs, Fashion Bug.
Michelle seemed very nice and but also very outgoing. A friend of mine that used to work at Fashion Bug told me that Michelle was a very cool manager, and that she could talk to her about pretty much anything. I soon discovered that Michelle had the people skills necessary to be a good manager, but she did not have the necessary managerial skills. After a while, it seemed like she didn't even have any social skills; she was crabby all the time and she was always talking about sex. HELLO! You can't talk about sex in a Hallmark store; it's just not okay.
I put up with her attitude, even though I heard that she had been talking about me behind my back, and she moved my name down six spaces on the schedule, while she had moved the new girl, Sammy, with whom she acted like best friends, to the very top of the list. The whole time Sara was the manager, employees were listed on the schedule in chronological order of when they were hired, with the exception of the manager and the assistant manager or Hallmark Coordinator. By the time Michelle was hired, I was number two or three on the list. I worked up the courage to ask her about moving my name down, and she told me that she just wrote down the names of the employees in the order that she remembered them, I found it hard to believe.
The chaos of two Christmas seasons with Michelle have gone by, and I am ready to rip my hair out every time I go to work. Nothing is ever done right. I am the only "old" employee left, somehow I just failed to find another job when everyone else I had been working with did. Michelle hired a bunch of new people between July and October, most of whom were her friends. All of her friends are like her -- completely incompetent. These people have been working here for months, and still don't know how to do basic register functions such as returns (which we haven't been doing as of December 15th because corporate has decided to close our store), exchanges, discounts, and taking coupons. And it seems that no matter how many times I help them, no matter how many notes I leave on the counter explaining how to do these things, no one gets it, either that or they don't care one bit.
Coach House Gifts will be closing to the public on January 23rd, 2011. There are twelve stores within the Coach House Gifts chain that are closing, all because leases are up, and the company doesn’t want to renew them. There has been talk of our store reopening in a new location, but I really don’t think that is going to happen. As much as I would like to think that there is a correlation between the store closing and Michelle’s poor managerial skills, it’s just not true. A coworker and I tried to get her fired once, but it didn’t happened. We called our district manager and told her all the things that Michelle had been doing wrong, but it almost seemed as if she didn’t believe us. Even though on her visits she had noticed how much of an utter failure Michelle was as a manager.
I’m a little sad about losing the job that I have had for two and a half years, but I’m also very excited to see what else is out there.
I have been working at Coach House Gifts/Hallmark in the Paul Bunyan Mall for two years and six months, and it definitely has the potential to be both my best job, and my worst job. Maybe that’s because I’ve had only one other job that I count -- Taco John’s.
One might think that working at Taco John’s would be absolutely terrible, but that’s simply not true. I started on New Year’s Day 2006 at the age of 16. It was my first legit job; I had only worked before for one month as a personal care attendant for a seven-year-old girl with autism, which proved to be too difficult. Compared to being a PCA, Taco John’s was a dream. I was perfectly content chopping vegetables, dropping bags of meat in boiling water, mopping floors, washing tables, and taking orders. Unfortunately, I had to quit my dream job in August of the same year when my mother decided to up and move to Fargo, North Dakota.
I moved back to Bemidji when I was still 16 years old, just in time for the beginning of my junior year. At the end of my senior year at Trek North High School, I finally got my very first car, yes I know, I was a little late, but that was no one’s fault but my dad’s. My dad made me wait until I was 18 years old to get my driver’s license so our insurance rates wouldn’t go up. I got a 2001 Ford Focus, I called it gold but my dad insisted it was champagne. I got my license on June 4th 2008, a week or so after I graduated from high school. My dad wasn’t going to pay for my gas; it was time to find a job. I got in my car and drove to the mall, and I picked up applications from nearly every store.
I went back to my car, and filled out all my applications, and dropped them off at their respective places. At Coach House Gifts I asked to see the manager. For some reason I was reason I was really trying to pursue this particular job. What was wrong with me? I didn’t want to work in gift store, I’m too clumsy for one thing, and for another I’d rather be working at the music store across the hall. The manager was gone for training in Green Bay, Wisc., but the young woman behind the counter, who I came to know as Trista, said she would tell the manger to call me. Yeah right, I thought.
Weeks went by and I not received a single call from any of the places to which I had applied. Maybe it was because my only previous job was at Taco John’s? Perhaps. I knew I should have called the place I had applied at, but that sort of thing makes me nervous.
However, one day in July, I looked at my cell phone and saw that I had a missed call. I called the number back, prepared to say something like “Yeah I had a missed call from this number and I was wondering who it was?” but instead of answering with a simple “Hello,” the person on the other end replied with “Good Afternoon, Coach House Gifts, this is Sara; how can I help you?” I was shocked. They had called me back. I said something along the lines of, “Hi! My name is Kristina Dahl. I applied at your store a couple weeks ago. I saw that I had a missed call from this number; can I talk to the manager?” Sara was the manager, and she called because she wanted me to come in for an interview.
I guess my interview must have gone well although I felt very awkward the whole time, because she asked me to come back from training in a couple days. July 21st was my first official day of work. It took me awhile to learn the till. I often had to ask for help, but once I got it down, I was in love with it. I was a till hog. I didn't care too much for dusting glass shelves or straightening the plethora of greeting cards, but when I saw that a customer needed to be rung up and no employees were at the register, I dropped whatever I was doing and literally ran to the counter.
Although I often think of myself as socially awkward, I had no problem putting on a smile and greeting customers when they first came in the store, saying something such as "Hi! How are you doing? Is there anything I can help you find today? Well let me know if you have any questions." I came to find out that some people don't like this. They either give a monotone "Hi," simply smile, or don't even say anything. Sometimes they wouldn't even look at me. I found this rather disheartening, but I have always been a fan of killing with kindness, so I kept up my chipper attitude.
When a customer comes to the register, I say something slightly similar to what I would say when they first walk in the store: "Hi! How are you? Did you find everything okay?" They either give me an answer or they don't and this is when I decide whether to ask them if they have the Hallmark Gold Crown Card or not. "It's not a credit card. It's just a rewards card, a way to earn points, which turn into coupons that you can use on anything in the store. You get bonus points when you buy cards and Hallmark Keepsake Ornaments." This is where they say "Sure! Sign me up!" or "No thanks, not today." If they have cards I ask them if they want gold seals. Typical responses are "Yes, please," "Not necessary," and "What's that?" which is a question mainly asked by the male population; they usually don't get the gold seals.
A year went by, and my manager Sara was leaving so she could get married to her fiancé Pat, and pursue her education at the Northwest Technical College. The search was on for a new manager, and I was really hoping it wasn't the creepy guy who dropped off the five-pound resume. Sara and our district manager, Dona (if you saw her, you’d understand why her name only has one N), decided to go with a woman named Michelle; she was currently manager at one of my coworker's second jobs, Fashion Bug.
Michelle seemed very nice and but also very outgoing. A friend of mine that used to work at Fashion Bug told me that Michelle was a very cool manager, and that she could talk to her about pretty much anything. I soon discovered that Michelle had the people skills necessary to be a good manager, but she did not have the necessary managerial skills. After a while, it seemed like she didn't even have any social skills; she was crabby all the time and she was always talking about sex. HELLO! You can't talk about sex in a Hallmark store; it's just not okay.
I put up with her attitude, even though I heard that she had been talking about me behind my back, and she moved my name down six spaces on the schedule, while she had moved the new girl, Sammy, with whom she acted like best friends, to the very top of the list. The whole time Sara was the manager, employees were listed on the schedule in chronological order of when they were hired, with the exception of the manager and the assistant manager or Hallmark Coordinator. By the time Michelle was hired, I was number two or three on the list. I worked up the courage to ask her about moving my name down, and she told me that she just wrote down the names of the employees in the order that she remembered them, I found it hard to believe.
The chaos of two Christmas seasons with Michelle have gone by, and I am ready to rip my hair out every time I go to work. Nothing is ever done right. I am the only "old" employee left, somehow I just failed to find another job when everyone else I had been working with did. Michelle hired a bunch of new people between July and October, most of whom were her friends. All of her friends are like her -- completely incompetent. These people have been working here for months, and still don't know how to do basic register functions such as returns (which we haven't been doing as of December 15th because corporate has decided to close our store), exchanges, discounts, and taking coupons. And it seems that no matter how many times I help them, no matter how many notes I leave on the counter explaining how to do these things, no one gets it, either that or they don't care one bit.
Coach House Gifts will be closing to the public on January 23rd, 2011. There are twelve stores within the Coach House Gifts chain that are closing, all because leases are up, and the company doesn’t want to renew them. There has been talk of our store reopening in a new location, but I really don’t think that is going to happen. As much as I would like to think that there is a correlation between the store closing and Michelle’s poor managerial skills, it’s just not true. A coworker and I tried to get her fired once, but it didn’t happened. We called our district manager and told her all the things that Michelle had been doing wrong, but it almost seemed as if she didn’t believe us. Even though on her visits she had noticed how much of an utter failure Michelle was as a manager.
I’m a little sad about losing the job that I have had for two and a half years, but I’m also very excited to see what else is out there.
Who's Crazy Enough to Stand in Front of Flying Rubber Anyways?
Some People Are And Here’s How You Become Professional At It
By Travis Bosch
The best job that I have ever had would be working hockey schools during the spring and summer months. These specialized camps are for young goalies learning to play the game of hockey. The pay is great at 30$ dollars an hour and helping others gave me personal gratification. A typical camp is challenging for all kids attending as well as the instructors teaching, here’s a look at what you may experience at a goalie camp.
Anyone can be an instructor but quality ones are hard to come by. When I am instructing I think it’s very important to utilize my good social skills. I’ve found that the kids will be more enthusiastic about learning if they can relate to their instructor. By making the material more exciting, the kids will be more eager to learn. This includes making simple drill stations into competitions and fun exercises. If my students are having fun, they tend to overlook how hard they are actually working.
At a goalie camp there are a lot of skills and technical terms used to describe all the crucial aspects of being a goalie. Some common terms are t-gliding, shuffle and butterfly. When I’m instructing and I see that someone is doing something improperly it is important to stop them and explain what he did wrong. The conversation might go something like this:
“Well buddy you’re moving backwards at a great speed but when you go to shuffle over your butterfly looks a little sloppy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well when you go into the butterfly you want to flare your legs for a bigger blocking surface”
“Oh so you mean pull my knees together but push out my feet?”
“Exactly what I mean. It’s kind of like making a mini wall on the ice.”
“I get you now!”
“Good! Now get back in there and show me a good butterfly!”
Usually the kids are pretty responsive and love to learn, especially when they get the hang of it. When they do something correctly, it’s important to praise them so that they know they’re doing it right. I remember attending goalie camp, and when older guys who I looked up to told me, “good job!” I really felt proud. In fact, I would tell my parents about it as soon as the ice session was over.
A typical day at a hockey school can go on and on. It’s long for the parents, kids and instructors. There are two-three hour ice sessions a day. To some people this would seem like work, but I enjoy it so much that I don’t feel like it is. It’s a long time to be on skates but you get used to it. Between the ice times, there are dry-land sessions, which are pretty easy for the instructors. They usually take place in a gym and consist of yelling orders to kids, using stop watches to count plyometric times, and, overall, trying to make young goalies better off-ice athletes. It’s important to be fit and limber as a goalie. A goalie will instantly stop more when his conditioning has improved. When the day has come to an end and everyone is tired, you remind the kids and parents of the ice time tomorrow and wish them a wonderful night.
What I liked the best about my job were the money and the ability to help others. Because I am not able to work all winter due to hockey and school, I find it important to I make as much money as I can in the summer. This job fills that need for me. I also feel like I’m giving back to the community. I know that when I was little, my parents and I appreciated goalies I admired for helping me. Now I have reached a point in my life where I possess the skills and the life knowledge to give back. There’s nothing better than seeing a kid running out to his parents all excited about what he learned at goalie school that day. I can relate to these kids and that is why I think an instructor is the best job I’ve ever had.
Warm up stretch.
By Travis Bosch
The best job that I have ever had would be working hockey schools during the spring and summer months. These specialized camps are for young goalies learning to play the game of hockey. The pay is great at 30$ dollars an hour and helping others gave me personal gratification. A typical camp is challenging for all kids attending as well as the instructors teaching, here’s a look at what you may experience at a goalie camp.
Anyone can be an instructor but quality ones are hard to come by. When I am instructing I think it’s very important to utilize my good social skills. I’ve found that the kids will be more enthusiastic about learning if they can relate to their instructor. By making the material more exciting, the kids will be more eager to learn. This includes making simple drill stations into competitions and fun exercises. If my students are having fun, they tend to overlook how hard they are actually working.
At a goalie camp there are a lot of skills and technical terms used to describe all the crucial aspects of being a goalie. Some common terms are t-gliding, shuffle and butterfly. When I’m instructing and I see that someone is doing something improperly it is important to stop them and explain what he did wrong. The conversation might go something like this:
“Well buddy you’re moving backwards at a great speed but when you go to shuffle over your butterfly looks a little sloppy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well when you go into the butterfly you want to flare your legs for a bigger blocking surface”
“Oh so you mean pull my knees together but push out my feet?”
“Exactly what I mean. It’s kind of like making a mini wall on the ice.”
“I get you now!”
“Good! Now get back in there and show me a good butterfly!”
Usually the kids are pretty responsive and love to learn, especially when they get the hang of it. When they do something correctly, it’s important to praise them so that they know they’re doing it right. I remember attending goalie camp, and when older guys who I looked up to told me, “good job!” I really felt proud. In fact, I would tell my parents about it as soon as the ice session was over.
A typical day at a hockey school can go on and on. It’s long for the parents, kids and instructors. There are two-three hour ice sessions a day. To some people this would seem like work, but I enjoy it so much that I don’t feel like it is. It’s a long time to be on skates but you get used to it. Between the ice times, there are dry-land sessions, which are pretty easy for the instructors. They usually take place in a gym and consist of yelling orders to kids, using stop watches to count plyometric times, and, overall, trying to make young goalies better off-ice athletes. It’s important to be fit and limber as a goalie. A goalie will instantly stop more when his conditioning has improved. When the day has come to an end and everyone is tired, you remind the kids and parents of the ice time tomorrow and wish them a wonderful night.
What I liked the best about my job were the money and the ability to help others. Because I am not able to work all winter due to hockey and school, I find it important to I make as much money as I can in the summer. This job fills that need for me. I also feel like I’m giving back to the community. I know that when I was little, my parents and I appreciated goalies I admired for helping me. Now I have reached a point in my life where I possess the skills and the life knowledge to give back. There’s nothing better than seeing a kid running out to his parents all excited about what he learned at goalie school that day. I can relate to these kids and that is why I think an instructor is the best job I’ve ever had.
Warm up stretch.
Storms and High Winds Hit Lake Winnibigoshish
The Late Spring Walleye Bite
By Matthew D. Larson
Walleye fishing during the 2010 fishing season was remarkable on Lake Winnibigoshish in northern Minnesota. For the first time anglers had the privilege to experience quantities of walleye while seeing quality as well. I had several early season trips on this particular lake that provided excitement and many photographs. I have owned Larson Guide Service since the age of 16 and have been fishing up north since I was a young boy.
One trip that stands out in my mind was on a rather foul weather day in late May. I had the honor to fish with Leroy Schluter and Gregory Glasson, who are long standing clients of mine. It was a Saturday when we departed from the lodge around 7:00 a.m. and were fishing by 8:00. The lake seemed calm and the sky was overcast.
The weather conditions seemed favorable but a slight chill in the air gave me a notion that a high pressure system was moving in from the northwest. It began to get cooler out. The temperature ended up dropping around 10 degrees and a slight mist began to fall. Greg started making remarks about “the weather not being so great” and the possibility of “leaving early to try another body of water.” However, as the slight mist turned to rain, the wind began to blow from the southeast around five to ten miles per hour.
At that point, I decided that we would drift lindy rigs along a series of flats on the lake. Beginning our drift from the south end of the lake, we came across a point where we caught our first walleye. Leroy yelled loudly “get the net!” Our first walleye came in at 20 inches. It was cold and slimy to the touch. Lake Winnibigoshish has a slot limit of 18 inches to 26 inches. Slot limits protect breeding fish and promote healthy age classes. It was then that the wind began to pick up another 5 miles an hour.
With waves turning into 3-foot swells, the boat started to bob in and out of the waves. The walleye action began to pick up and we were averaging two walleyes each drift across this point. Walleyes typically will respond to sudden changes in weather and will feed on forage. Winds were picking up speed and what was once a 3-foot swell turned into dangerous waves. It now became too windy to be on the lake.
We were 4 miles from the boat landing and it became our task to get off the lake safely. Winds began blowing in excess of 30 to 40 miles per hour with gusts up to 55 miles an hour. Waves kept crashing into the front of the boat and Greg and Leroy both looked at me and said “This is dangerous! We’d like to get in as safely as possible please”. With this in mind I started slowly driving straight into the waves, each wave crashing over the front of the boat. The cold misty spray penetrated my coveralls and chilled my face. As my fingers became numb and it was hard to maneuver the boat.
When we finally made it back safely, the task at hand was to get the boat on the trailer. The waves weren’t allowing us to get the boat on the trailer right. We accomplished it after several tries, and finally had the opportunity to warm up. With the aromatic scents of hot coffee tickling our nostrils, we finally had a chance to look at the fish we kept. It ended up that we had four walleyes, and 10 jumbo perch. For only being able to fish for four hours out of the day we were appreciative of our catch. This was a great early season trip with some excitement and turmoil on Lake Winnibigoshish.
The Better Part of Having a Job Is Enjoying It
Traveling a Distance to Achieve Success
By Miranda Milless
I have only had a couple jobs in my lifetime. When I was in high school my parents never forced me to get a job because they thought it was more important for me to focus on my schoolwork and sports. My first job was at a resort in the laundry department. This job had to be the worst job I will have ever worked, but that is a different story. My second job was at the Wide World of Sports in Orlando, Florida. This turned out to be the best job I ever had and was a great opportunity that was given to me by my uncle who works for Amateur Athletic Union (AAU).
AAU works with Disney and manages multiple tournaments for all sorts of sports, from basketball to la crosse. I worked with basketball tournaments where there were 12 courts on site at Wide World of Sports. The facilities were nothing but the best. Along with the 12 at Disney there were 12-14 more courts at local schools and community centers. The two main facilities, the Milk House and the Jostens Center, were both well air-conditioned. Half the time it did not even seem like I was in Florida because it got so cold. With so many courts available, one can imagine how many teams come to these tournaments from all across the U.S.
Being that I am from Minnesota, traveling to Florida was a great experience. I had driven down with my mother because I would need a car to drive to and from work. My aunt and uncle reside in a near-by town outside Orlando where I had the opportunity to save money and live there for free. My mom stayed a week until I was settled in, and we visited all the amusement parks and the beach. My aunt and uncle were more than welcoming and generous and could not have made the adjustment and easier.
My mornings did start early with a 40 minute drive, but all I had to do was sit at a table and run the clock or do the book for the games. No strenuous work was required, though my legs would get a little restless. Therefore, between games I could walk around and up the stairs to get my blood flowing.
With there being so many different teams of all ages and all different states, I was amazed at all the talent. The youngest teams were 9-years-old and some of them played like they were teenagers. I love to watch basketball, so this happened to be a great job for me. I also got to work with some great people. For some of the games we needed three people, one to run the clock, one to run the shot clock, and one to keep the book. There would be 8-10 games a day, often-times ending at around 11 p.m. The days were long but totally worth the paycheck. Another advantage to this job would be that I could wear whatever I wanted. Most of the time I would show up in comfortable yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. It had been a very casual atmosphere working on the courts. One downside to the job would have to be the referees; every three games or so there would be a new set of three camp refs who were still in training so they were not that good.
The second part of my summer I worked in the office gathering the score sheets for all the games and putting them on the computer to be instantly uploaded to the Web site. The office was hectic and I was worried about making mistakes because my uncle had said, “The things you do, like show up late, reflects bad on me. I recommended you to work here this summer, so make me proud.” Although he said this with a smile and tender heart, it still made me a little scared and forced me to work extra hard.
Furthermore, with the long days, one could not be expected to work more than a week straight. I was able to have a few days off here and there where I could sleep in and rest by the pool. It did get a little lonely not knowing that many people and all. At the end of the summer, I did, however, make one pretty good friend who I got to work with everyday. We had a lot in common and were able to discuss the games we worked and comment on weird things. She was tough to say goodbye to after getting so close, but we keep in touch.
When work had ended my sisters had flown down to drive back to Minnesota with me. That drive would have been a terrible one alone. Getting lost was even an option with someone to help look at the map. They ended up staying a week where we visited the amusement parks and got to go to the beach a couple different days getting plenty of sun and people watching. It turned out to be a great thing that we were able to get along so well or it would have been one long week. The drive back had taken more than 24 hours, but once we got home it sure felt good. In the end, I had a terrific experience and met some really great people. So far, t his job had topped them all.
The Time of My Life!
Working at Riverwood National Golf Course last summer was definitely a great experience
Getting to work at a golf course as a beverage cart girl and server, I always had a fun time and many stories to tell
By Kathryn Stoffels
It was a humid summer morning and I arrived to work in Otsego, Minn. Riverwood National is located approximately five miles west of the Albertville Outlet Mall and 40 minutes north of Minneapolis. I felt good about today, being that there were more than 50 golfers in the clubhouse and even more on the driving range and on the freshly cut putting green. The participants for the tournament were everywhere. I loaded the beverage cart with soda, candy, and alcoholic beverages, and was so happy I worked the cart and not inside. The sun shined, not a cloud in the sky, and I felt that I would make a lot of tips. Today I worked as the beverage cart girl because there of a large scramble that was taking place at 9a.m.
Being a golfer myself and having practically grown up on the golf course, this was the perfect job for me. Not only did I get paid by the hour, but I also kept all of the tips that I earned. Since I understand the game, I can keep conversations with the golfers about their game, and they ask me about mine as well. While working as a beverage cart girl, I got to wear shorts and a tank top with wide straps or any top cute top, along with closed toed shoes. This helped me maintain my tan! Another positive about working at Riverwood National was the free golf; I could hit all of the buckets at the driving range I would like or play as many rounds I wanted in a day. I typically worked five hours a day and then would play a round of 18 holes with a few of my friends that work there. My golf professional that I have worked with for 11 years, Steve Fessler, is the person who got me this wonderful job.
Before going onto the course I made sure the cart was loaded and that I had the blue case of money that we all called “the bank”. It was 9:20 and time to head out there. I made myself an Arnold Palmer, which is half lemonade and half iced tea, in the kitchen and was on my way. The route we beverage cart girls took was to start on hole 18 and end at hole one; this was because then you could meet with the players as they were approaching the cart girl, and so we aren’t trying to catch up to every group. The first group that I met all wanted alcoholic beverages; this was because every golfer in the tournament got two tickets for free drinks of any kind. Three of the people got beer and one of the lady’s had a Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I could tell right from the start these golfers in the tourney were going to be drinkers, and I am not talking about soda or water.
Making my rounds, there was one foursome that was hilarious. This group had two men and two women. One of the men asked, “Hey beautiful, you have gorgeous eyes. What’s your name?” He was about 6’ 3” with flowing dark blonde hair, and his eyes were a sparkling green.
A little shocked this 30 something year old man told me this, I replied, “Well thank you! My name is Kathryn.” This was normal for me to get compliments and the men to flirt with me. To start some conversation with them I asked, “How are you guys doing so far?”
They all chuckled, and the other guy in the group said, “Hon, we’re going to have to see you more often.” He was a fat man with shorter blonde hair gelled up towards the front. I could tell that these two men and two women were definitely not serious golfers and just out there to have a good time.
Every time I met up with this group, the men were so flirtatious and kept asking for more drinks. Because everyone got two free drink tickets, they usually tipped me every time they got a drink. As the tournament came to an end, the bank was stocked full of cash. This tournament was one of the longest I’ve ever worked. It took close to six hours; where as a normal round of golf takes four hours. Earning tips is a big part of why I love this job and how I make most of my money. I was extremely happy that it was a gorgeous day and I made a lot of money doing what I love. I hope next summer is just as enjoyable as my last.
How I Got My First Real Job
The Tale of the Office Helper
By Zach Swaser
My job history is brief, because I have never had a real job before starting college last August. It’s not because I have never wanted one; I have just not been offered a job, or even an interview for that matter. I applied to countless stores and businesses near my house and was unsuccessful. Plenty of my peers in high school were also looking for jobs, so there was a good amount of competition. At 16, I was sure that I would be able to find a job, but that wasn’t the case. When my senior year began to approach, I frivolously began applying to all of the same stores and even ones in the surrounding cities. Again, my attempts failed and I began to feel angry and discriminated against because I was a high school student and was not yet 18. So I went on jobless and without a car all during high school, which I didn’t like at all.
Before I knew it, I was packing for college and it was time to start looking for a job in Bemidji. The first week of school I applied for four different work-study positions on campus. I was confident about finding a job now that I was no longer a minor, which I think is a growing discrimination issue because of the rising rate of unemployment and more adults applying for entry-level jobs. I was in quite a hurry because I heard from many new acquaintances that positions filled up fast. I had filled out two applications in the Technological Studies Department on one warm sunny August day, one at the request of Prof. James McCracken who had seen me filling out the first one in the main office. I departed with fantasies of finally getting a job.
About a week later, I received a phone call from Prof. McCracken saying that he would like to meet with me to discuss the possibility of me working as an officer worker for him. I excitedly agreed to meet with him and proceeded to call my mother to tell her the good news. After a short meeting a few days later I was ready to begin working.
The first day I toured the building and found out where all of the odds and ends were located and did some filing. The building, Bridgeman Hall, is one of the newer buildings on campus. The tile and overall look of the building are sleeker then most of the other brick buildings on campus, but it does have that paper smell and boring white wall color like most offices. My duties include filing paperwork for Prof. McCracken, answering the phone and taking messages, making copies, creating spreadsheets, and other little assignments and errands. I also frequently prepare envelopes and mail them for Prof. McCracken. It is dull work but there are the days when I finish working and get to do homework for pay so the job has its benefits.
Now, a few months of working later, I can say that I do not have the worst job by far and I enjoy the normal ease of working in an office. I also can say that getting a job when you are a minor is extraordinarily more difficult than once you turn 18. If I would have kept my options open or looked around a little more before accepting this job I think that I could have found one that I enjoy more, but for now money is money.
By Zach Swaser
My job history is brief, because I have never had a real job before starting college last August. It’s not because I have never wanted one; I have just not been offered a job, or even an interview for that matter. I applied to countless stores and businesses near my house and was unsuccessful. Plenty of my peers in high school were also looking for jobs, so there was a good amount of competition. At 16, I was sure that I would be able to find a job, but that wasn’t the case. When my senior year began to approach, I frivolously began applying to all of the same stores and even ones in the surrounding cities. Again, my attempts failed and I began to feel angry and discriminated against because I was a high school student and was not yet 18. So I went on jobless and without a car all during high school, which I didn’t like at all.
Before I knew it, I was packing for college and it was time to start looking for a job in Bemidji. The first week of school I applied for four different work-study positions on campus. I was confident about finding a job now that I was no longer a minor, which I think is a growing discrimination issue because of the rising rate of unemployment and more adults applying for entry-level jobs. I was in quite a hurry because I heard from many new acquaintances that positions filled up fast. I had filled out two applications in the Technological Studies Department on one warm sunny August day, one at the request of Prof. James McCracken who had seen me filling out the first one in the main office. I departed with fantasies of finally getting a job.
About a week later, I received a phone call from Prof. McCracken saying that he would like to meet with me to discuss the possibility of me working as an officer worker for him. I excitedly agreed to meet with him and proceeded to call my mother to tell her the good news. After a short meeting a few days later I was ready to begin working.
The first day I toured the building and found out where all of the odds and ends were located and did some filing. The building, Bridgeman Hall, is one of the newer buildings on campus. The tile and overall look of the building are sleeker then most of the other brick buildings on campus, but it does have that paper smell and boring white wall color like most offices. My duties include filing paperwork for Prof. McCracken, answering the phone and taking messages, making copies, creating spreadsheets, and other little assignments and errands. I also frequently prepare envelopes and mail them for Prof. McCracken. It is dull work but there are the days when I finish working and get to do homework for pay so the job has its benefits.
Now, a few months of working later, I can say that I do not have the worst job by far and I enjoy the normal ease of working in an office. I also can say that getting a job when you are a minor is extraordinarily more difficult than once you turn 18. If I would have kept my options open or looked around a little more before accepting this job I think that I could have found one that I enjoy more, but for now money is money.
The Working World: Time For a Change
By Jake Hertwig
My early jobs included, cutting grass and babysitting for family friends. I got my first real job as a nursing assistant on an Alzheimer’s wing at a nursing home when I was 16. I did that for three years but it was taking too much of a toll on me. I wanted a change of pace. I took a job at the Win-E-Mac Travel Center, a local gas station. I would be working in the deli, preparing sub sandwiches, pizzas and other fast food.
The first couple weeks weren’t too bad. Most of the time, I worked alongside my supervisor so that I could get a feel for how everything worked. I learned how to make pizzas and sandwiches first. All of the crusts were frozen and had to thawed the night before to be prepared that day. They would stay in the fridge until we would get a call for a pizza order. We would then take the crusts and apply the sauce, cheese, and any other toppings that the costomer ordered. The pizza had to be set on a slow moving rack that would go through an oven for 15 minutes. After a couple day shifts, she had me come in to work the morning shift with her. During that shift, I had to make a lot of food to last throughout the day: doughnuts, cookies, breakfast sandwiches, cold sandwiches, etc. Soon after, I was able to work the shifts by myself. It was good to finally be put in control of the floor. The first couple weeks went really well.
I was a much bigger fan of working the morning shift than the afternoon or evening shift because I was already an early riser and it felt good to be done working a shift and still have the afternoon and evening to do other things. When you work in the afternoon and evening, it’s really hard to motivate yourself to do anything else. The morning shift always had a pretty steady flow of the same group of farmers and truck drivers coming in to get their morning coffee and doughnuts. Another part about working mornings that I enjoyed was the co-owner, Ryan, who worked the register. We would always pull pranks on each other and joke around. One morning we opened together at 5 a.m. when he got me really good. Ryan had told me of the hotel that used to located where the gas station stands, and the hotel had always been rumored to being haunted. During the morning shift, I was in the back of the kitchen stocking the shelves and I heard what sounded like deep breathing and moaning. Since I am easily spooked, I automatically thought it was one of the spirits. I told Ryan about it and he said he didn’t hear anything. I went back to work and soon started to hear it again. This time, however, I saw out of the corner of my eye Ryan speaking into the intercom. He still never lets me forget that.
However, my feelings toward the job soon changed. Every now and then, I would have to deal with some of the nastiest costumers. Some people would be short with me and treat me with no respect. So many times I would be on the phone taking an order and would want to say , “You know what? I’m doing you a favor by making your supper for you! The least you can do is to show me a little bit of respect!” There’s one night that really stands out for me. I answered the phone for a pick up order. The man on the other end was on his cell phone and was cutting in and out really badly, so it was really hard to catch what he was saying. He finally just exploded, “Hey, take the *explicit* out of your ears and listen! How hard is it to take an order for a couple pizzas?” I’ll tell you this much, I gained a much deeper respect for those people who have to deal with that kind of behavior everyday. I just can’t understand what motivates someone to talk to a complete stranger like that.
Another part of the job that really stunk was the cut in pay. When I worked at the nursing home, I was making $10.50 an hour. However, when I started at the gas station, my pay got reduced down to under $7 an hour. To tell you the truth, I felt like I did a whole lot more work at the gas station than at the nursing home. I actually felt like I was making my money’s worth at the nursing home. I think this was mostly due to the fact that one of the biggest parts of being a nurses aid is being a friend to the residents. Residents are usually so open to talking to you, and I get a much bigger instrinsic reward from helping them.
Overall, I really didn’t enjoy working at the gas station. I felt like I was getting paid very little for a lot more work. I am thankful that I had that job, because it helped me discover what I really liked and what I didn’t like about a job.
My Best Job To Date: The Summer I Worked With the Street Crew
By Emma Pavleck
The summer after I graduated from high school, I quit my job at Total Entertainment Center (TEC) to work for the City of International Falls-Street Department. I was thrilled to get the position because it was a job that many students applied for, but few got. Besides that, it was mainly an outdoor job, which was very appealing after sitting behind a desk for two years selling movies at TEC.
I was really nervous on my first day. We all waited in the city garage for our boss to tell us our new positions. About ten of us students stood there with the regular employees, all men who had worked there for years. Eventually we were assigned our positions. My friend Kelsea and I were put in charge of painting. I was a little relieved because it was a job that did not require very much strength!
One of the many reasons I loved this job was the freedom we had. On a typical day we would arrive at work, tell our boss what we wanted to accomplish that day, hop into our work trucks, and go our separate ways. Kelsea and I painted all over International Falls. We painted playground equipment, pavilions, picnic tables, the beach house and the Chamber of Commerce building.
Being the newbie’s, Kelsea and I got the worst truck in the lot. We would be driving along and it would just break down at random moments in the middle of the street. One morning we got all our supplies loaded into the truck and got about five blocks away from the garage when our truck broke down. Our mechanics came and got us and eventually fixed the truck so we were on our way again.
The second attempt was as bad as the first. The truck started to break down at almost the same spot as the last time so we pulled it into an alley. We kept trying to start it but it died every time. Kelsea was behind the truck calling the garage for help when all of a sudden I got it started! It started moving so I yelled for Kelsea. I leaned over and opened the passenger door. I was driving down the street screaming “Run Kelsea, Run!” Kelsea sprinted down the street and just as she jumped up into the truck it died again. We both laughed so hard we cried. To make things even more embarrassing, we noticed a big group of people watching us the whole time! That was our whole summer in a nutshell. . .one comical episode after another. We had a great time.
I went back the next summer as well. I got a new partner and a new position. I worked with one of my best friends, Brad. We were in charge of trimming, garbage, and upkeep around the playgrounds. I learned a lot that summer. The joke was that Kelsea and I had “killed” the last truck, so Brad and I were stuck with the beast, a huge truck with a manual transmission. After we got our work done, at the end of the day Brad would give me stick-shift lessons. It took a couple of days, but I learned how to drive it and I was soon a pro. I also learned how to work the trimmers. I had used them before at my house, but these were ancient and heavy. After using those every day for four months plus hauling garbage and picnic tables, I was in great shape and stronger than I had ever been before.
My summers working for the city were so much fun! I would probably still be going back if I had not found a full time job after. I loved working outdoors. My co-workers were a blast to work with, and I had a great boss too! I probably will never have another job like it again, so I’m grateful that I had the experience. I am really glad that I had the opportunity to work for the Street Department.
The Glory Days: The Life of a Resort Girl
By Brittany Smerling
As a young girl I moved to an unusual place for a city person. It was in the middle of nowhere, 20 miles east of Bemidji, Minn., on Moose Lake. I would now know this is the place that made me who I am today. My tasks included lodge duty, mowing the yard, cabin cleaning, and many other jobs. This made me think what I thought was a job were my glory days.
I would have to get up around nine or ten a.m. to watch the lodge, as many people didn't get up to early while they were on vacation. I would go down stairs with both a sweatshirt and sweatpants on, or if I had planned to go swimming that day, I would put my swimsuit on under my clothing. I would walk down into the lodge from our house that was attached, turn on light and the games and open the front door to let the sun shine in. I would help guests in getting many things: fishing licenses, bait, groceries, pop, candy and help them with their purchases from our apparel section. Between all of these tasks, there was a lot of downtime where there would be nobody in the lodge for hours at a time. I would find a comfortable chair and turn on my favorite TV shows while eating candy off the shelf usually sour patch straws or Swedish fish.
When I would get off lodge duty, or on a bright and beautiful day, I would have to mow our five-acre yard. This may sound like a hard job, but it wasn't. We had a riding lawn mower, so all I had to do was get on and cut that grass. In my two cup holders I would never go without a bottle of water of course what was usually nice and cold. In the other cup holder was my spraying tan lotion and my IPod. At the end of the day I would have a nice tan and would appreciate the work that had just been done. I would stroll around and make sure there were no spots missed and soak in that freshly cut grass smell. This was my favorite part, the clear blue sky and fresh cut of grass flowing through the air. My dad would then say, “you did I great job would you like to do the neighbors”, and I would usually say yes as they were good friends and senior citizens.
The last two jobs were mostly performed during the week. People might say my next task living on a resort was the worst job ever, but it was fun and entertaining at our resort.
Cleaning cabins wasn’t all bad. I would roll out of bed around 7:30 a.m. in my pajamas and would head out to the cabins, sometime forgetting to brush my teeth. The women who helped were a mother and daughter that lived up the road from us, a friend from school also helped and of course the boss lady, my mother.
We all had our tasks. I was known for heading straight for the TV to put on a music channel. After getting the TV set on a channel, I would also begin to work. I dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the windows. It was a girls’ day; chatting up, gossip, and listening to music all day. The cabins were never that dirty, we still did our tasks through every cabin no matter what the cabin looked like. When all the girls were done with their job, we would then move on to the next cabin and so on until we were done. Now all my friends wished they could have got jobs cleaning at the resort.
Growing up on a resort is something I will never forget. Every moment was a blast and I wish I could go back to those simple days. I was paid in a very useful way, as my parents agreed to pay my college tuition. I did get paid enough cash to get me by as a young teenager. In my free time I would usually invite friends out to go swimming or other activities or run into town and hang out with friends there. So a couple of fun summers at the resort ended up to be worth a debt-free life out of college. And from my experience now at two retail stores, I would have to say this was the best job ever.
If a Tree Falls in the Woods, How Loud Will the Boss Yell?
By Ben Knuesel
Story of men and trees and the battle that they go through every day
Though there have many bosses in my lifetime, none has been worse than Jerry Setter. Setter owns his own tree cutting service and I was between a rock and a hard place when it came to my financial situation so I was left with no choice but to go to the lowest of the lows.
My first day on the job he yelled out to me through his large cotton-like mustache, “Are you the new shit?” Then he yelled to Steve, his foreman, "How long do you think this pip-squeak will last?” Steve was an experienced man to say the least. He had been Jerry’s foreman for 18 years and hated him more than anyone. Our job was cutting down trees. We worked from when the sun came up till we could barely walk or even grab a simple leaf off the ground.
The one motivating factor that any of us had was that glorious piece of paper at the end of each week with our name and a small number on it. Though I was getting paid less than minimum wage, it was at least something. The days were often in excess of 100 degrees and we had little time for breaks. The sweat would pour from my hard hat, down my back, and drench my blue jeans. Our lunch break was unpaid time and was very short. More times than not, our lunches were squashed, cracked, flattened, and all of the above on the way to the site.
When that precious break time came around, the moment was lost when my peanut butter and jelly sandwich had turned into a tortilla. Water went along with it, but it never seemed I got as much water as I needed. Every morning, we wouldn’t have a clue where we the jobsite was so we would get taken out to anywhere in the southern part of Minnesota and sometimes in Wisconsin. Hours could go by until we would finally arrive. When we got there, we took care of business as long as we could until the time ran out. Once done, we then had to drive back home after hours and would not get paid for the driving time, no matter how long it was. The rest of the day the smell of freshly cut wood would be caught in your nose, and sawdust could be found in all of your clothes, and all over your body.
Once at the work site, Jerry would put on a show with the client on how nice he is and how we will do the best work they have ever seen, but once they were gone, Jerry would come over with sweat on his glasses and his bald head looking like the monopoly man and start ranting and raving about what needed to be done. It didn’t matter what kind of tree it was, we did them all: Maples, Crab Apple, Pine, Poppler, Elm, etc. When starting with a tree, we would start at the top. Steve, a man who had all of his hair, but the hair was completely white, would get into the cherry picker with a chainsaw and start cutting limbs from the top. He would drop the limbs down and my job was to drag these limbs and throw them into a chipper that pulled more than one of my gloves away from me never to be seen again. When Steve needed something, he would yell through his five remaining teeth left whatever he needed with curse words between nearly every word.
Much of the time, the limbs were to big to throw right into the chipper that was about the size of a Ford F-150, so I had to pick up a chainsaw and trim them up. I had never worked a chainsaw before this, but the second day they gave it to me, told me how to start it, and expected me to know the rest. Luckily I never cut any human limbs off. At the end of the day, we would have the tree we were cutting down, down to the stump and all of the excess raked up and looking pretty. It was hot and exhausting. At the end of the day I was ready to collapse, and operating under such dangerous conditions was ominous. I cannot believe I never got seriously hurt, other than a few bumps on the head and scrapes all over my body.
When it came to the fellow workers, I can say with certainty that jail was no stranger to them. On my first day, one of them started a conversation with me by asking, “You been to jail yet?” Now I’m not exactly sure what he meant by “yet”, but I think he may have been implying that if I hadn’t yet, I will be on my way if I’m working at this dead-end job. I said as little as I could and just tried to stay out of the way. I answered with a simple “yes” or “no” to every question and kept as low a profile as possible.
Most people try to learn to trust at least one co-worker. A job such as a tree cutter might involve a little more trust than some other jobs since they are dealing with dangerous tools, and unpredictable trees and falling limbs, but there was little to none here. I was told to keep my mouth shut, my head down, and to stay the hell out of the way. If a limb was falling from the sky through the whirlwind of sawdust and leaves, there was no communication; it was up to me to save my own neck. While I worked there, three new workers came on, none of whom last more than three days I stuck it out for a whole summer until I found a better job the next year.
If nothing else, this job gave me character. I learned new traits, new skills, and mostly how to deal with difficult people. I will never forget Jerry Stetter that is for sure. Hopefully that will be the last of the bad bosses I will have to deal with, but I don’t see that happening. I feel like I’ve got a lot of job left in me, but I’m done being a lumberjack for now.
The Graveyard Shift
An Account of the Worst Job I’ve Ever Had
By Alex Schlee
After a solid two hours of sleep, my alarm clock began to blare. I stumbled around my room blindly, feeling for the off-button for several minutes before I finally found it. I gazed blearily at the glowing red display on the front of the clock in my hands: 3:30 a.m. I had to be at work in half an hour. I quickly threw on a red t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants while trying not to wake Carly, my sister who slept in the room across the hall. I might have had to wake up at 3:30, but that didn’t mean she had to.
I skipped my shower. Not only did I not have time for hygiene, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. The temperature would reach 90 degrees on this summer day. Inside Target, where I worked, it could get even hotter than that, since they turned the air-conditioners off at night. At this point, shower would only be a waste of time and soap.
When I left the house, I was greeted with total silence, just as I was every morning. It was actually a bit unnerving, since I was so used to hearing the noises of the city. Now there was a light background buzz of crickets and some cars off in the distance. I put on my headphones, switched my iPod on and began my eight-block walk to The Quarry Shopping Center. The Walk seemed longer than that because of the eeriness of the dark and silent city. Every morning, I was afraid I would get mugged, although the fear was unfounded. I made it safely to work every time.
Arriving at Target usually involved waiting for someone to hear the buzzer by the back door and come to let me in. Depending on how many people arrived before me, this could take awhile. This was particularly unpleasant on nights when it was raining, which was often that summer. Once inside, I had a few extra minutes to stow my personal affects in a locker and, if necessary, dry myself off as best I could before punching in for my shift.
My job was simple enough. First, I went to the loading dock and grabbed a stack of rolling cages that would be used to keep discarded cardboard. The rest of my shift was spent unloading pallets of crates from a semi-truck, using the codes on the boxes to distribute them throughout the aisles of the store, and then unpacking every item from every box and putting them in their proper places on the shelves. Of course, the quality of the work was of less concern than how quickly it was done. I was a slow, but precise worker, which caused almost daily altercation with my taskmaster of a manager.
“Hey, you! New Guy!” snapped my manager, who still did not know my name, despite the fact I had been working here for several weeks. “I’m gonna need you to pick up the pace.”
“Mmhmm,” I replied drearily, not wanting to say anything that would put my job at stake. It may have been a crappy job, but it paid well. I also didn’t want to further annoy my manager today.
The previous night, I had been asked to come in at 2 a.m., instead of four. This normally would have entitled me to a longer break, but I was never given one. I had continuously asked co-workers about the time of their breaks, but no one was being given breaks that day. Angered by this, I slipped hints by complaining about the lack of break times every time the manager was around. Finally, she got fed up with me and we confronted each other.
“So, no one’s getting breaks tonight?” I demanded. “Not even when we’re working from two to eight? Jeez, that’s like a six-hour shift. I thought we were supposed to get a break on a shift that long...”
“Hey,” the manager said from behind me.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any more questions about the length of your shift?” she said crossly. “Because I thought I made myself clear.”
“Nope,” I said flatly. “Everything’s just peachy.” I felt myself blush from anger as we glared at each other. The mugginess inside the building added to the effect.
That job was the dullest, most monotonous job I’ve ever had. It was good money, and even a decent workout, but it made my summer miserable. Returning home damp and sweaty, exhausted and frustrated every morning, and sleeping all day essentially killed whatever social life I had hoped for at the beginning of June. To top it off, my boss was a jerk, along with several of my co-workers. Quitting was one of the biggest reliefs I’ve ever experienced.
It was like punching out, but forever. The relief of knowing you were done with work for the day, and you were out from under the watchful eye of the boss came daily for us peons, but we always knew that we would have to come back. This time, there was no coming back, and I never had to get up at three in the morning again. A giant weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was finally out.
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