Okay, so my sister-in-law Amy kind of made reference to a certain job I had while living with them one summer in her "memory of me" comment last week and I’ve been laughing about it ever since. I figured it was one of those life-altering experiences that was blog-worthy, and I not only needed to document it for my posterity, but also for my reader’s entertainment. Basically you all get a laugh at my expense today, cause I love you guys!!
It was a hot, and humid summer of 1994. I had just finished my second year at Ricks College (back when it WAS Ricks College). I had decided to stay the first summer term to try and make up for some credits that I had kind of goofed up on (see my previous post about failing college German), and attempt at getting my Associates before I left Rexburg forever. (Didn’t end up happening, but I realize now that was fate stepping in and taking over things a little.) I also had a boyfriend at the time who I couldn’t imagine living my life without, and he was staying for the summer too, so there was that too. (No it wasn’t Mark, he was on his mission by this time. If you’re really curious, he was named after a famous trapper who simultaneously has a national park named after him.) Anyway, I finished up the summer term in June. The boyfriend had finished up as well and was heading home to northern Idaho. I was facing the prospect of returning to Michigan with no real plans beyond that. Basically, I was at a crossroads. I didn’t really know what I was going to do next…like with my life basically, and I needed guidance, love, and not to feel like a lonely “single” adult living in my old bedroom at the home I grew up in. I needed and wanted more.
The offer was extended by my brother and his newlywed bride to come and live with them for a little while in their cute little house in West Jordan. Life in Utah kind of piqued my interest, so I accepted. Arrangements were made to fix up the extra room in their basement with a twin bed, and Jeff picked me and all my stuff up from Rexburg and brought me “home”. It was so fun. They were both working during the day, but we would eat dinner together in the evenings, usually something Jeff would whip up using his master Italiano cooking skillz he acquired from the mish, and then later on we would stay up watching Star Trek re-runs on a little 13-inch TV they had rigged up in the living room (for better antennae reception).
The time eventually came for me to get a job, and my options were limited. I didn’t have any wheels, and they both had their own jobs that they needed their vehicles for. I surveyed the business establishments within walking distance of their house. My options were 2 grocery stores, a fast-food place, or a Maverik. Something would work out, right? I was kind of surprised when I got turned down by both grocery stores. I didn’t have my Associates yet, but come on! I did speak English, and could tie my own shoes. I didn’t even apply for the fast-food gig…I knew I didn’t want to come home smelling like grease every night. The thought even made me gag. But the Maverik seemed a little adventurous, it is after all, "adventure's first stop". HA!! I loved Maverik to begin with, and was a regular patron. Their gas was the cheapest in town, they had awesome fountain drink selections, and hot dogs and nachos for fifty cents! Plus it always smelled like freshly-baked bread, thanks to their regularly stocked deli case (which was actually a reliable one as far as gas-station deli cases go…Jeff Norman, case in point.) Anyway, the hours were flexible and the employees wore cute orange aprons, and it was all-I-could-drink diet coke (to feed my addiction). What more could I ask for? I applied and got the job! It was a family owned and run franchise. The owner was in charge of 3 or 4 different locations. The one on the corner in West Jordan, and another one in Taylorsville that I would sometimes need to cover shifts at. On those days, Amy could drive me, drop me off, and then Jeff would pick me up.
My first day on the job, they handed me my orange apron and taught me how to stock the shelves and clean up. I got a peak behind the scenes into the cooler at the palettes and palettes of plastic bottled pop and booze. It was fairly straight-forward. I also made sure the store shelves were neat and tidy (so up my alley), and had to keep the hot dog roller stocked with dogs, and accompanying buns warming underneath. I had to make sure the free condiment counter was clean, stocked, and taken care of. I had to manually fill the fountain machine with ice (which required a ladder and a “slippery when wet” sign), and learned how to hook up those syrup bags in the back to the fountain machine. Cool.
Unfortunately, I also had to be trained on the general cleaning of the store. Most of the heavy duty stuff was done at night, but if there were mishaps during the day, we had to work the roller mop and occasionally check the cleanliness of the restrooms. This is where it got dicey. I’m not even kidding when I say that my FIRST day, the men’s room toilet got clogged and they handed ME the plunger. Ewwww. I’ll never be the same.
But moving on…after I learned the tricks of the plunger and the mop, they stuck me behind the cash register. I ran the register for simple food and merchandise purchases first. Pop, chips, candy, deli sandwiches, hot dogs, car oil every now and then. It was pretty easy. Eventually they promoted me to lead register in charge of gas purchases, tobacco, alcohol, and food stamps. This was a tricky business. There were so many new things that I had absolutely no experience with. Did you know that when you pull up to a pump at the gas station, a little bell goes off for the clerk to okay the transaction and the pump doesn’t dispense gas until the clerk presses said button to release the gas. Well it’s true. You have to size up the person, the make and model of the car, and what not before you proceed in case of a drive-off. All while juggling packs and tins of tobacco, carding people for alcohol, and approving food-stamp purchases. It was surprisingly complicated. And the training was insufficient for my inexperienced, naïve ways.
First of all, I didn’t know the age limit for buying cigarettes was different than it is for alcohol, and I didn’t know what year their license had to say in order for them to buy their booze. I had to make up a cheat sheet. I also didn’t know what was okay for patrons to use their food stamps for. I didn’t know that only food items can be bought with those stamps and not gas, tobacco, alcohol, etc. So things got royally messed up. Each day after my shift, we took our drawer into the back to count up our money and total everything up. I had a mountain of food stamps and barely any cash. I showed like a million transactions for tobacco and beer that day too. Things did not add up…like in a very serious way. As it turned out, I was selling cigarettes and booze to people on the Government’s dime for about an 8 hour shift. I thought things were particularly busy in that dept. that day, and I figured out why! Patrons were probably running home to tell their family and friends that the dumb white chick up at the Maverik was giving smokes and booze out for free!! AAGH!
I got into some trouble with my boss, but I claimed ignorance. He never told me, and I had no way of knowing. They demoted me back to cleaning girl for awhile. At that point, I had had my fill of Maverik Country store anyway. I gave them 2 weeks notice, called my parents, and told them I wanted to come home to Michigan. I was sad to leave Jeff and Amy’s place, but it was for the best. Fortunately my other sibling, my oldest sister took pity on me and invited me to live with them for awhile and see how life in the Chelsea country would fare for me. They picked me up on the way home from their summer vacation and I spent the next several days in the backseat of their van reading Paige and Andrew stories, and picking goldfish out of my hair from where they were pelting me in the back of my head. I moved in with Paige after we were all settled. She was still in a crib, and I was across from her in a little twin bed. That is a whole other experience in and of itself that I’ll have to save for another time.
Just so you know, I saved my orange Maverik apron. It’s still packed away in my Sterilite memory box, reminding me how grateful I am for a college education, and that things can always, ALWAYS, always be worse than any of my bad days here at C-ware.
