Musical jobs

Butcher, baker, candlestick maker...surprisingly these are 3 jobs I have not held...yet.

I meant to write a long and hilarious account on the ups and downs of being a substitute teacher in Waukegan Public Schools (my job since March). It may still happen...we'll see. I just got caught up in time. Months piled up and now school's no longer in session. Musical jobs begins.

Musical jobs has made me start to think about all the jobs I've held in my 28 years on this planet. My first real job was at 12 so I guess just about 1/2 of my life so far has been touched by the working world. While I'm no Homer Simpson...I'm starting to amass quite a wacky list of trades.

To date I have been employed as:

paper delivery girl
veterinary assistant
secretary
textbook associate
note taker for university classes
summer camp counselor (arts & crafts director, nature assistant)
waitress
sheep farmer
phone interviewer for surveys
supervisor
stock girl for Toys R Us
foreclosure data collection
voiceover artist
research assistant
genetics lab monkey
pond manager
housesitter
petsitter
drunk lady sitter
meeting hostess
(and maybe a few other things)

Since I've been home I've worked as:

flower delivery person
substitute teacher
photo shoot assistant
driving instructor
"lead procurement" for local business

Many of the people I went to school w/in SA had never had jobs. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, as in Americans LOVE working (it's part of our identity). As in many African families take care of their kids and don't want them working (or don't expect it). As in the job market in SA is a bit tighter. Probably a combination of those things. All I know is that I know more people in SA who had never worked a day in their life, while at their age I had already had about 7-8 different jobs.

I was fortunate enough to not have to work while in school in SA. A first for me. So I can see the value of not working while in school. I get that argument. But I also thought about all the things (good and bad) these people have missed from not being a part of the working world: boss bullshit, time clocks, taxes, hungover summer morning wakeups for work, general job bullshit that comes from the "you pay me to do stuff" contract we enter into, financial freedom, all the people I've met, all the fun and random things I've done from raising dragonfly larvae to shearing sheep to cruising around bringing flower joy, all the skills I've acquired through job duties. I can't help but feel they've missed out a bit.

A friend of mine is your classic workaholic. He would spend 20 hours a day at work if they let him. We were once talking about work and freedom and he said "I don't know what I would do if I didn't work." My reply: "Anything you want!" Imagine if you didn't have to go to work everyday...you could literally do anything you wanted.

Our formative years are spent preparing us for the working world. Wake up early M-F. Go to this central location. Do what you are told (and certainly don't question the authority of those telling you). And we are told this is something you must do to get anywhere in life. While this may be good training for the masses who aren't thinking outside the box and crave being told what the structure of their life should be...I certainly think it's not a system set up with anyone's best interests in mind. It's just something we "have to do." Suck it up! This must be achieved!

Right now I'm supposed to be a most ferocious work machine. A model that has never suited me. I've almost always taken crappy pay jobs so I can retain a modicum of freedom and flexibility all while getting experience "for the future." That's why sheep farmer appears on my laundry list of employment as opposed to more lucrative positions. It's also why I'm broke as a joke. Win some, lose some.

So "school's out for summer" and I've hopscotched my way into a new job doing "lead procurement." Some fancy marketing word for getting the word out and enticing people with our services. I call folks on the phone or contact them otherwise to tell them about the business and services we offer. Anyone I contact that uses our services means bonus money for me! The company is a document storage and shredding company, so it's services I can get down with. I'm not working for the devil or selling people crap they couldn't use...like a new vacuum cleaner or knives. Seriously if you are in the market for storage/shredding...talk to me! We operate in Southern WI and the Chicagoland area...so get at me if you need something like that. It's a small company so no job is too big or too small. And there's a sweet reward in it for me :) You can check out their website at: accessyourdocs.com

I'm also training to be a driving instructor. Hilarious...considering I haven't owned a car in about 7 years. Provided I pass the test next week, I start teaching immediately.

Eish! The things we do for money...

If you take nothing else from this conglomeration of working words then take this and think about it:

What would you do if you didn't have to work???
...anything you want!

Keep the faith and spread it gently
Love Lynsee

Thoughts from the bread aisle

Overall I’m not a fan of shopping. Malls freak me out with their neon glow and polished surfaces condoning and encouraging extreme consumerism. Buy me! Buy me! Bust out the credit card! I often get lost in them, even ones I’ve frequented. The sting of long hours in changing rooms packed into ill fitting clothes. Going home empty walleted. All this I’d rather do without. The thrift store is my Mecca, not the mall. But grocery stores, oh baby! I love me some grocery stores.

I don’t know what it is that I love about food emporiums. If it’s all the food. The joy of expectation as I construct future meals in my head. Comparing the extra jumbo can of tuna to the small can to see if 3 smalls = 1 large is really saving me 4 pennies. The equality that stems from the reality that we all must eat. The hilarity of the “ethnic foods” aisle with its pasta and tortillas. Spotting food stuffs I’ve never encountered and hypothesizing exactly how I’d turn it into an excellent meal (or a failed meal on the way to an excellent meal). In SA, trying to read the aisle names in Afrikaans.

All I know is that I love the grocery store. So much so that when I was in Pretoria I used to go there to calm down even if I just needed a loaf of bread. I can literally spend hours in a grocery store over a loaf of bread…ask anyone who has had to give me a ride to/from the grocery store.

My first real grocery spree was a few weeks ago at a store in Waukegan. It was another glorious piece sewn into the homecoming quilt. In Waukegan we have your usual big box chain grocery stores but we also have a number of fruit markets that cater to the large Latino population in town. They are just as big as the chain stores, but I think more independently owned/operated. I absolutely love these stores: cheap produce, weird vegetables, signs in Spanish advertising specials on pechuga (chicken breast), lechuga (lettuce), and leche (milk). Plus there is usually a ton of food items I’ve never seen before or even heard of. All in our humble town. Waukegan has between 100 and 150,000 people and we have about 4 of these “fruit markets.”

Besides an overwhelming calm, a few thoughts passed through my head as I marvelled at Honduran coffee, the myriad types and brands of asian noodles, and Mexican sweets and sodas the likes of which I’d never seen but must be some-kid-some-where’s favorite splurge item. But mostly I thought “man these grocery store people really have it figured out.”

In the USA I’m lead to believe that many Americans sternly disapprove of immigrants. “Why can’t they speak English?” “They are taking our jobs and government services.” And so on. I’ve heard surprisingly similar sentiments in South Africa directed at the immigrant populations there. The USA wants to build a super wall on the border between USA/Mexico to keep our neighbors to the south out. I’m sure we will learn the hard way, if the wall is put up, that no wall is too big to keep out those that want in. People brave hostile oceans on plastic rafts to get here…there’s no “Great Wall” that can extinguish that hope. The allure of the American Dream is too great. We’ve marketed it all over the world, yet we still want to keep folks from the last step. I don’t get it, but maybe it’s all part of keeping demand high. The unattainable goal. All I know is that it hasn’t taken our country long to forget those words inscribed in stone on the Statue of Liberty:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

But these grocery store people have it figured out. Instead of whining about how immigrants pollute what it means to some people to be a “true American” (whatever that means) the grocery store operators have taken advantage of the situation and given people what they want. A little taste of home to nourish the journey toward the American Dream. It’s genius and I’m sure it turns a pretty penny.

I'm under the impression that the booming immigrant population in the USA isn't going anywhere. I've been substitute teaching in Waukegan and most of the classes are mostly Latino. So, instead of complaining about the inevitable I think a better strategy is to make lemonade. I think these grocery store people have done just that and figured out how to make a buck from it...now that's American ingenuity!

Until next time

Keep the peace and spread it gently

Love, Lynsee

Delivering the luv

Valentine’s Day has never been a thing to me. I mean as a kid it was the day you got to make, fill out, give, and receive cute paper declarations of love. “I choo-choo-choose you” and other such whimsical nonsense. And of course there was Valentine’s Day candy involved. If you want to win me over, come bearing candy. I’ll be putty in your hands.

As you get older Valentine’s Day tends to go one of three ways: mushy, bitter, or indifferent. The mushies get all excited over Valentine’s Day. Maybe you could classify these folks as those with significant others, but some people just love the idea of love. The bitters get nauseous at thought of all the hearts, teddy bears, and corny couplets that come with Feb 14. These are usually the people that don’t have significant others on the big day. Or maybe those folks that never got candy grams or a carnation in high school. The bitters usually mock the mushies. To the indifferents, V day is just another day on the calendar.

I fall in the indifferent category. I think we should love each other every day and that a particular day designated as a love fest is kind of forced and pointless. A “hallmark holiday” that’s been a bit inflated to push merchandise on us all. I surely wouldn’t mind receiving some flowers or candy on that day, but I’m not going to go out of my way to get involved in the V day hype. I would never push it on my man. I also wouldn’t go so far as to feel dejected should the absence of flowers, candy, or general love accolades greet me on the big day. People that choose to show each other love on the big day shouldn’t be the butt of jokes. Showing love should never be put down.

For me…Valentine’s Day means work.

For longer than I can recall, my family has delivered flowers on Valentine’s Day. A family friend owns a flower shop in our neighborhood and we are part of the florist army reserves. We are called to duty on such important flower days as Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day, and sometimes Christmas. We drive around in circles making sure that special someone knows you care. It’s fun.

I love driving. At times I can tire from driving too much, but mostly I love it. Probably a reason I like driving so much now is that I don’t own a car, so it’s kind of a novelty. But even when I did own a car I loved driving. Driving in South Africa wears me out because it’s like a constant obstacle course and you need to be steady on point. Depending on where you are driving, the road could contain any of the following: ladies carrying bundles of firewood on their head, cows, goats, donkeys, kids, bicycles, potholes, dangerous mountain curves, erratic taxi drivers, misleading or absent street signs. I have decided that if you can drive in a busy township (rural or urban) you can drive just about anywhere. ‘kasi drivers are ready for anything driving has to throw at you…even Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. My secret blue collar dream jobs are in no particular order: taxi driver (SA or USA), city bus driver, or semi truck driver. I can’t say I’d want to do any of those my whole life, but I sure wouldn’t mind a stint in any of those positions.

The joy I get from getting paid to drive around and listen to killer tunes on the special flower days is only added to by the fact that I make people happy. No one is ever upset when you show up on their porch or at their workplace in your red and pink V day outfit (complete with dancing top hat teddy bear heart pin) with flowers in hand. It’s really nice to be able to bring a smile and a fragrant bouquet to someone when you had nothing to do with the thought or sentiment involved. You just delivered the goods.

Delivering flowers to businesses is particularly hilarious because as you enter the office all the ladies’ puff up a bit and turn heads to follow the flowers, each one hoping it is for them, until you reach your target. Then each person not receiving flowers deflates a bit and gets back to work or ooooohs and aaaahs over the flowers, probably vowing to drop some hints at home about how nice Delia’s flowers looked at work. My brother and I also think that some of these ladies are secretly cursing the woman who got the flowers. We make up fake curses after we leave the office. Hilarious. And the best part is that you get to leave the politics, get in your car, turn up the tunes, and drive away.

For me, and especially in the last years I’ve been doing this, delivering flowers is a way to reacquaint myself with the layout of my town and the surrounding area. It’s really cool to be able to drive around and relearn the diversity of all the nooks and crannies that we call Waukegan. The downtown old school mansions, projects, suburban dwellings, parks, taquerias, sexy cake bakery, The Smoke n Gun (a tobacco and firearms store), the love house (a house we delivered to that served as a monument to Cupid), the house that always has Mary, Joseph, and the Easter Bunny in their nativity scene, a homemade ice rink on someone’s lawn, the houses of old friends, and all that’s in between. I must say we got a mighty fine town going on up here in Waukegan.

The florist delivers to all of Lake County, so that means not just my town, but also many towns in the area. I have spent about 16 years of my life with Waukegan as my home base. The general framework of the lay of the land always sticks in my mind, but I’ve been away for so long that the fine details often get muddled. Names, faces, and places swirl around my head in one big geographical soup. I recognize the names of many streets, but getting there can sometimes be a Herculean effort. Thank goodness for phonebook maps, Mapquest, Rand Mcnally.com, and my brother the navigator. Unfortunately this little detail makes me a slightly ineffectual driver and I often end up getting flustered driving back and forth and around where a more familiar driver could knock off all the targets in smooth fashion without all the backtracking. But in the end I get there and so do your flowers.

The places I despise when I deliver flowers are those crazy suburban subdivisions that seem to pop up in empty fields like weeds in your garden. I curse every time I know I need to venture into one to bring Valentine’s Day love to your door. There are a number of ideological beefs I have with these planned communities, but mostly they annoy me because I always get lost in them. All the ticky tack houses look the same and the streets curve around each other like a plate of spaghetti with no rhyme or reason for where they go. Streets quickly end or curve into new streets. There are myriad Circles that dead end. The names of the streets are pretentious. In my nightmares Banshee Whisper Ridge Court, Tiger Tail Circle, Pond Ridge Creek Boulevard are a tangle of streets I never seem to be able to find an exit from. In waking life the scene is not much different. From the airplane I always picture the subdivision street swirls as malicious anacondas choking the life out our landscape. From the ground they choke the life out of my sense of direction. Pave paradise and put up a parking lot, right?

Because we are sometimes on a tight time schedule or want to get as many deliveries in as possible (to maximize profit) it also means that you can get a little crazy with the car. I’m not talking about OJ Simpson freeway stunts, but you do get to bend the rules of driving a bit. I don’t usually speed much while out on deliveries unless I’m really in a hurry. What I’m talking about is ruthless parking. I’ve always been a renegade parker. I find it sneaky to park in a metered space for 5 minutes without feeding the meter your coins. I got other tricks up my sleeve when it comes to parking, but I’m not telling…sorry. When we deliver we have a sign that says “Delivery in progress. Driver will return soon.” To me that says we get to park in fire lanes, handicap spots, and anywhere else we can stash the car for the 2 minutes we will be inside. I love this. Being in South Africa has taught me the beauty of not following the rules all the time. In the USA we follow the rules because they are there. While I do think this makes for a more upstanding society, at times it means that we just follow because. We follow without thinking and I find a problem with this. In South Africa you have the opposite extreme…damn near lawlessness at times. While this is not an optimal situation, and I believe SA could use some more followers, I like this situation because it is created by more free thinking people. Or maybe just downright rude people, but I prefer to think of the former and not the later. I like to mix up the two societies in my approach to things. Ruthless parking gives me my fix. I have to say my best moment this V day was smoking a cigarette next to a no smoking sign all while parked in a handicap spot while I waited for my brother to deliver a bouquet. I was on fire for those 2 minutes!

One final nice thing I enjoyed this V day was working with my brother. He came up from his town to make some extra cash. At first we were in separate vehicles, but we realized that it made sense to work together. Although we probably made less money (because we split the money we get paid for each delivery), we got to have fun driving around together. I guess I’ll always choose laughter over money. We were a well oiled machine with me at the steering wheel and him at the map pointing out how to get out of those awful suburban subdivisions and walking the flowers to the door. A dynamic duo indeed.

Hope you enjoyed the flowers, candy, and love fest of Valentine’s Day 2009. I’ll see you again on Mother’s Day…

Until then…keep the faith and spread it gently

Love Lynsee