Rejection Letter #1

This past week I got my first we-don't-even-want-an-interview letter.  Obviously, I did the most rational thing and took this as a personal attack against my resume, experience, credentials, and character.  Then to spread the drama I left my mom a voicemail in a really sad and pathetic voice that begged her to feel sorry for me, "Got a rejection letter today (sniffle, sniffle.)"  Remember, I said job applying was a huge test of faith for me?  Instead of thanking God for showing me one place I wasn't supposed to be, I had a slight meltdown.  I say slight because a few days later I had another meltdown; it was a teensy bit bigger.

Imagine this...Me crying while talking on the phone to my mom, "Moooommmmm, (hiccup sob)  I am probably (slight gasp for air) NOT going to get a (another sob) JOB!  Who (cry, cry) do you think (sniffle) is ever going to HIRE (sob) me?  Why can't this (one last sob) be EASY?  Really, mother, HOW am I ever going to PAY off (ok..one more huge sob) my LOAAANS?"  I then go on blubbering about all the unknowns in my life.  Right now, I have a lot of unknowns.  Will I have to move? Will I get a job in Sioux Falls?  Should I continue working on the rez?  Where will I live?  Who will I will be friends with? And blah, blah, blah...Thankfully, only a few days later, job prospects are looking slighly better.  I've heard of a few openings and potential openings and was able to send out a few more applications. 

Today work helped me remember that my problems, my job search, my worries are actually pretty pathetic.  People around the world are hurting, and I'm crying because I might have to move or make new friends?  Seems stupid when people in Japan are mourning the deaths of their friends and can't escape harmful radiation.  Seems stupid when I look into the little faces preschoolers and know they might not get much to eat over a long weekend.  Seems stupid when  children and families are hurting from abuse or illness or poverty. 

And then ... when I checked into the Golden Buffalo tonight, the check in lady gave me back my shampoo and conditioner I forgot in the shower during my stay last week.  I though I had lost it forever.  This might not be a big deal to anyone else, but I was extremely thankful to be able to have my almost full bottles back and thought it was really nice of her and the lady who cleans my room to save them for me from last week.  When I am taken care of by people who barely know me, seems pretty stupid to struggle to trust the plans of a God who MADE me. 

Past Jobs-Paper or Plastic? Part 2

You may not understand what you might all learn working in a small town grocery store; I will try my best to fill you in.  First, grocery store delivery trucks do not run on normal people time.  I mean, really, who wants to be up at 4:30 a.m. to unload boxes of cans?  And is it really even safe?  I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be hanging out before dawn with sleepy eyed high schoolers armed with box cutters.

You will quickly learn everything needs to be priced according to the sale add.  You might realize it has to be done quickly and completely accurately because someone wiLL examine their receipt and find that your advertised $.19 per pound bananas are ringing up at a whopping $.20 per pound instead.  After a few weeks you will most likely shudder in fear of "dime" ladies who go over their receipts with highlighters looking for every cent you "stole" from them.  You might begin to understand that if our government is serious about cutting spending they really need to hire these ladies, soon.

Because you are an employee, you might be given the privilege of entering The Back Room.   On any random day you might find a plethora of goods back there.  You might see an ice sculpture, a deer, (skinned and hanging upside down, of course) lots of damaged stuff, bakery goods, and piles and piles of boxes. You might also have to use The Back Room to hide from the really cute public school boy with a cut off T-shirt and dimples that you absolutely canNot say hi to because you'll totally do something embarrassing like smile weird or talk in shaky voice. 

You will most definitely learn to love getting an oasis from the insanity of baggin and checking each day at a retreat called break.  You might see boxes become lazy boys and produce carts become couches for 15 minutes around 10 a.m. and 15 minutes around 3 p.m.  Breaks could involve some donuts or cookies, caffeine, gossip, and bickering about who has to interrupt their mini vacation to check out costumers who aren't aware or don't care that no one in the world should be at the grocery store at these magical times of day.

Working at a small town grocery store also might help you fall in love with the variety and excitement of life.  You might get to sell milk to the town mayor, see your best friend wrap up meat and wear a hair net, wash windows with a squeegee, witness a seven cart pile up, go to war with a "dime" lady, and have a credit card machine melt down all before noon.  You might get to be a spectator in Back Room flirting that develops into dating that ends up in an oh-my-we-still-have-2-years-of-high school-left-and-working-together awkward break up.  You might get to Moonshine clean everything with a crazy blond friend or get to know a family that has made a small town business a success.  You might even get to hear "A Boy Named Sue" karaoked at the company Christmas party.

Since you are employed by the main supplier of food to your community, you will most likely get to meet lots of people and hear lots of stories. These stories might help you fall in love with a community and people that helped shape who you are and who you will become. You might need a job like this to give you building blocks for jobs coming in your future where the stories you hear are little less light and the faces aren't as familiar...but you might have learned to be delighted that people are letting you in on their journey :)

Past Jobs-Paper or Plastic? Part 1

I got my first real punch-in-and-paycheck-with-taxes-taken-out job in 1998 as a cashier and bagger at Sanborn Foods.  

For those of you who might not know, Sanborn Foods is an amazing place.  Located right in the heart of Sanborn on Main Street, it has two check-out lanes, around 6 aisles, fresh produce and a meat department.  You might think this is small, but you can honestly get all the groceries you (or your family) need.  Whether you want Shurfine brand anything or an Oglivive home perm or a 10 cent jolly rancher stick or Casey’s Bakery buns or a peppered beef stick or a carton of Dorals or Kirby vacuum bags or the latest town gossip, Sanborn Foods is your one stop shop.  You can charge your groceries to your own account (or your mom’s if you're smart.)  And instead of drive through or take out your own, someone actually carries your groceries to your car!!! 

Anyhow, I sorta fell into this job because they were looking for a high school kid that was available after school (aka not in sports.)  Someone told someone who told my mom who told the store owner's wife that I’d be interested.  Two days, and no application or interview, later I was scanning bar codes, bagging up groceries, and stocking shelves dreaming of the sweet ride I would buy with all the cash I was banking at $4.36 an hour. 

If only I could have known back then how special a place this job/store would hold in my heart now... :)

Past Jobs-Night Crawlers for Sale

Back in the day our family used to have a night crawler (a.k.a. slimy worms) business.  Basically we sold worms out of a fridge in our garage to fisherman and whoever else might need a $1.75 a dozen container of little crawlers.  The whole family was in on the job. 

My mom, dad, brother, and sister picked the worms late at night after it would rain from a family friends' farm. (Miraculously for all the years of crawler selling, I was able to avoid this part of the business.)  Supposedly picking worms entailed holding a flashlight in your mouth, crawling around in pig poo, and grabbing as many worms as you could.  I would guess that this adventure would have included lots of yelling (my dad was rather intense about picking fast and no one else seemed to share his passion) but thankfully the mouth-holding-the-flash-light took care any would be verbal fights.

The other side of the worm business was selling which I wasn't able to escape. This is how it worked.  Someone would ring the doorbell, my siblings and I would fight about whose turn it was, and then the one who wasn't in tears would answer the door.  All we had to do was count a dozen or two, get the money, poke a few holes in the lid of the container, and call it a deal.  But back in those days that was a LOT of work, and you had to touch the worms. 

When we weren't home, we hung a sign on our door that read, "Night Crawlers a $1.75 per dozen. In the green fridge in the garage. We go on the honor system so please leave your money in the bowl on the bench.Thanks for your business." Our favorite thing was to come home to a bowl full of money knowing that we didn't have to count out the dozens or make change for any fishermen and women that day. 

Our worm business was a hit, and we were able to pay for our summer vacation to a lake in Minnesota from our worm fund.  Plus we learned about keeping night crawlers in captivity, all the hot spots to fish in NW IA, how to count change, the multiples of 12, and what a baker's dozen was...so those of you who are laughing about our hick-ish business, you can buckle it up :)

Past Jobs-Babysitting Nightmare

As I freak out about my future job, I find joy in reflecting on my past jobs.  My career started as a babysitter back around the 5th grade.  I have some real babysitting horror stories...like the time a little boy I was watching flushed a whole roll of toilet paper which ended flooding the whole bathroom and leaking into the living room carpet.  After using the families' shower towels to clean up sewer water, I prayed that the mom wouldn't yell at me.

That same night that same boy took me to see his pigs.  (Which was a smelly and terrible adventure for a town girl like me.)  Anyhow, one of the pigs was in labor, and the boy told me I had to reach my hand up in there and pull out the piglets, or they all would die.  I don't like pigs, but I don't like dying pigs even more.  Because my dad has all life answers, I ran to the house (these were the days before cell phones) and called my dad who gave me a really good piece of advice, "Don't touch those pigs.  You don't know what you're doing.  They'll be fine.  Pigs have babies without people in the wild."  I don't know much about pigs in the wild, so I trusted my dad and prayed those pigs wouldn't die.

After all the toilet and birthing pig terror, I had to feed those kids hotdogs (I was feeling a little leery of anything that might contain pork at this point.)  Of course, the microwave was broken, and they had a gas stove I didn't know how to light.  Since my pride prevented me from calling my parents for aNother emergency, I soaked the hotdogs in hot water and prayed those kids wouldn't get some sort of e-coli. 

A little bit later their mom got home and brought me back to town.  I prayed they'd never ask me to babysit again...which was one of the many prayers that day that did not go unanswered :)

The Blahs of Job Applying

I hate applying for jobs.  HATE IT!  I hate filling out the apps, getting reference letters, not getting calls for interviews, going to interviews if I'm lucky enough to get called for one, updating my resume and blah, blah, blah.  For the third time (not counting summer jobs or part time jobs) in my rather short (5 year) career, I am again applying for jobs, but this time I'm doing something different...I'm going to write about it.

Tonight I got together with my friends for a baby shower (for one of the cutest mom and baby ever).  But a few of us were talking on the way home about how different our lives are then we ever would have thought 10 years ago.  If I was the me I had planned for then, I should be married, with at least one kid, teaching, and a home owner.  Obviously, that plan was not God's.

So as much as I hate the job application process, I know I'll end up wherever God is going to use me next.   But most of the time, I worry. I mean, I worry A LOT.  For me, applying for jobs is also a test of faith.  And, for the record, I really don't like tests either, but I haven't found a way to avoid them yet :)