Work

Well, after an extended absence not altogether due to busyness, I return to tell you a little bit about life in a small town and the good folks at St. John Hardware.

It's funny, I've lived in a small town all my life, but I've never really appreciated the community until this summer. This year, after failing to get a position at college I was still determined to find a job with an indoor toilet. I sent out quite a few applications but generally the post had already been filled or I didn't meet the qualifications (no, I've never worked in a green house before...) I was really hoping for that greenhouse job. That would've been sweet. The local hardware store had been advertising for summer help and I put in an application out of desperation. I was called for the interview which I nailed after falling flat on my face at Whitworth. Lo and behold I was hired.

Machinery is definitely not my thing. Still, this was one of the few full time jobs that I was qualified for and the pay and hours weren't too bad. I'm still not exactly sure why they hired me. Jerry, my boss, told me they'd hired girls before and there shouldn't be a problem, but when they said there would be heavy lifting they weren't kidding. I felt useless half the time because I couldn't do everything they needed me to do. But then, they did only have five applicants. I was one of two they hired and that allows us to work a schedule of four ten hour shifts. Having Sunday through Tuesday off suits me perfectly, and the fact that the other guy has pretty much pissed off everyone in the store by showing up late or not at all makes me look good by comparison. But the four days I did work were not my cup of tea.

The crew comprised of Jerry, the good-natured somewhat goofy supervisor, Greg, his fellow parts guy, Ray, who runs inventory, and T.J., my cohort. I see quite a bit of Regina, who sells appliances, and Lori who does the office work too. Scott and Jo, the owners, pretty much live upstairs. The mechanics work out back.

It's not exactly a place where you make bosom friends. Sure, they're good-natured in their way. Greg and Ray enjoyed harassing me as though I was a freshman being hazed. I didn't mind so much since there was no malice in it. I simply tried to ignore the random squirt gun attacks, verbal jibes, and practical jokes. I felt like I had "Fresh Meat" written on my forehead and knowing them I might have. However, judging from the stories they told me, the could have made it a lot worse.

What I did isn't exactly interesting. Hauling around combine parts, cleaning, checking inventory, and the occasional day trip to Walla Walla were all part of the fun. Yesterday was my last day. I have survived the abuse and company politics. But one thing I have gotten from it was an appreciation of the tightly-knit community here. Everyday I saw the same people at the grocery store (er, both of them), the bank, the post office, the library... I know most of them by name. They all know me.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. As much as I enjoy this community, it's almost suffocating at times. I'm often at odds with myself. Who is going to take care of the house when my parents are too old? Would I like it better in a big city? I dream of moving away, and yet I can't imagine living anywhere else. I'm anxious to go back to school, but I know how stifling it can be at times. You can't have it both ways I guess, but sometimes I feel like Samwise Gamgee. I shall always be torn in two.