Landing and quitting my dream part-time job.
At sixteen years old, I was hired for my first part-time job. Unfortunately, I was convinced to quit before my first day of work.
In case it's helpful, below are the topics covered in this post:
Why I Wanted to Work
Once I turned sixteen years old, I was excited about getting my first job and earning money for myself. I longed for that sense of independence, responsibility, and accomplishment.
I was ready to take a step towards adulthood and learn better money management. At least this was what I told my Mom when I explained why I wanted a job.
Honestly, I just wanted to get out of the house! I was desperate to spend several hours away from the house and my Mom. I would have worked for free as part of an internship program if the opportunity presented itself to me. I could not bear to be home.
I lived a sheltered life. I went to school in the morning and straight back home in the afternoon. Mom did not allow me to join after-school activities like playing a sport or expanding my knowledge during study hall. Heck! She would not sign a field trip release slip if I could not be home by 4:00 P.M.
If I went anywhere other than school, it was usually shopping with Mom. I hated shopping, so it felt like I was being punished for not being at school longer. My brother would "save" me periodically by taking me to see a movie or eat out, but only when Mom approved it. A lot of times, I could not even go hang out with my older brother.
When I turned sixteen, I believed it was the perfect opportunity to get out of the house for several hours a week. I just wanted to be free of my prison.
Convincing Mom to Let Me Work
With my brother's help, we did our best to convince Mom that getting a part-time job was a worthwhile endeavor for me. I even got accepted into a work program at school that allowed me to receive academic credit for working a part-time job and maintaining my honor roll status at school.
I did not have a vehicle and was not allowed to drive despite having a license. Mom refused to drive me to work daily, and there was no public transit available at the time. My brother offered to drive me to-and-from work.
After many discussions, Mom finally agreed to let me get a job under several conditions:
Only my brother could drive me to-and-from work. If he was late to take me or pick me up, or if he could not be my ride on a workday, I was supposed to quit the job. I was not allowed to call a cab or get a ride with anyone else, including my Dad.
I had to maintain my A+ honor roll status at school. No job was going to distract me from a "great education."
I could only work on weekends. No weekdays, even though the work program at school allowed me to work during the morning hours. No overtime. No exceptions.
I could not accept graveyard shifts. That is when "the rapists and killers attack young girls."
I could not work at a fast-food restaurant. I do not remember her reason why, but I am pretty sure it was for a stupid reason that only made sense to her.
I could only work for a store in the mall. Mom believed the mall was the safest place for me to work at. She also loved shopping in the mall, so I am certain she planned to spy on me during the weekends.
Family came first no matter what. If I needed to be with family, I could not be at work.
Hired for My Dream Part-Time Job
Back in the nineties, I had to fill-out paper job applications and return them to their designated store location. Mom brought home applications for stores she wanted me to work at. She had friends that worked as managers in these locations and promised to ask them to personally review my application for consideration.
I did as she requested, but never heard back from those businesses. It did not matter because there was only one store I wanted to work at since I was a kid.
I loved reading and visited a bookstore in the mall frequently. The manager recognized me because I was a regular who never bought anything. I would hang out there while Mom shopped at all the other stores.
One day when my brother took me to the mall, I stopped at the bookstore to fill-out an application. I was so nervous, I forgot how to spell my name! I wanted the job more than anything because it meant I could be around so many books, even if I could not read them while I worked. To be in a book's presence was tranquil to me!
That afternoon, I got a call from the manager inviting me for an interview the next afternoon. I was ecstatic! I told my brother first since he was the one to drive me. He was just as ecstatic for me! He knew how much I loved that bookstore.
Mom was not ecstatic. It was not one of the departments stores she recommended to me. After I explained that it was the one store I wanted to work at most, she then gave me permission to go to the interview.
I vaguely remember the interview experience. I recall sitting at a table in a break room with the manager. She was friendly and kind. I was a nervous wreck. It did not help that I had a stuttering problem as a teenager. I thought I blew my first ever job interview.
Then the manager asked, "If you were to be a fruit, which fruit would you be?" I was stumped. I researched possible interview questions for weeks prior to this day. I did not recall any of the resources I read mentioning this question.
After what felt like a ridiculously long pause, I gave my answer. "An orange because it's unique. It's so unique, there are no words that rhyme well with it, but everyone still likes it."
The manager laughed and said I had the job before the interview. She just had to follow protocol and meet with me before making the offer. I was going to start next Saturday for a morning shift.
I was ecstatic! I ran to my brother's arms crying tears of joy. I was hired for my dream part-time job!
Mom, of course, was not excited about my new job, but she congratulated me. She lectured me and my brother about the conditions we had to abide by. We agreed without argument.
Monday morning, I submitted my request to be accepted into the work program at school. The teacher looked at me and laughed. Apparently, I had a good reputation at school despite being a quiet introvert. My request was already pre-approved once I provided proof that I was employed.
My self-esteem, which was normally low or non-existent, was at an all time high! Life felt worthwhile.
Quitting Before I Started
I got home Monday afternoon from school to find Mom lying on the couch with a cast on her right arm. Mom is right-handed, so seeing it in its state concerned me. Mom explained that she had a nasty fall earlier in the day that resulted in an emergency room visit. She broke her arm and would be unable to use it for months.
That evening, I watched as Mom winced in pain every time that she tried to do something. I offered to do everything I could so she could rest.
Mom thanked me for being a "good daughter" and helping her when she could not help herself. She then started crying as she questioned who would help her when I was working on the weekends.
After a long conversation (one-sided because she did most of the talking), she then convinced me that I had to quit my job to care for her. After all, family came first before work.
I pushed back and refused to quit. By doing so, I became a disobedient daughter who did not love her mother. I asked her for a doctor's note that I could give to my manager as proof of why I needed to quit.
Sadly, Mom had a letter written and signed by her primary care doctor for me on Tuesday afternoon. She called my brother to take me to the mall so I could quit in-person.
I went into the store in tears. I did not want to quit my dream part-time job, but I felt obligated to care for Mom. I explained the situation to the manager, apologizing profusely for disrespectfully quitting before I started.
The day I quit was the last time I went into that bookstore. I was too ashamed to show my face there again.
Mom's Lies
Each weekday afternoon after school, I went home to Mom struggling to deal with wearing a cast on her right arm. She struggled to do basic things since she was not used to using her left hand for much. I was still devastated for quitting my job, but I felt like a good daughter for quitting caring for Mom.
I accidentally slept in on Saturday morning. If I were to work, I would have been a few hours late. Fortunately, I did not have to worry about getting fired.
I walked out of my room to see Mom without a cast. I was shocked at first, but then I became infuriated once I realized I fell for another one of her selfish lies.
We argued about her faking a broken arm to keep me home with her. She made so many excuses about why she did the right thing by lying about her broken arm and telling her managerial friends to not hire me to work in their stores.
UGH! I called my brother crying about everything Mom said and did. He rushed to the house and continued arguing with her. Mom said she did hurt her arm but did not go to the emergency room as she told us earlier in the week. Their argument got so heated that my brother stormed out of there. I could not blame him. I would have also if I knew where to go.
Instead, I locked myself in my room. I snuck out a few times to use the bathroom and collect snacks and drinks to hide in my room. I was not allowed to have anything edible in my room, so hiding it was my only option to keep from getting into more trouble. Yes, somehow all that happened was my fault according to Mom. She was happy I willingly locked myself in my room because she was going to ground me anyway.
I was not allowed to work until after I turned eighteen. My brother would sometimes help me sneak out of the house so I could participate in a few after-school activities or hang out at a local library. Otherwise, my time at home was spent doing arts and crafts or playing video games.
What's Next?
Since I just spent time writing about a part of my past that I hated, it is time to reflect on good memories. I will now spend time thinking about things that make me happy.
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Thanks, and have a great day!
Simply Jelly Jam
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