My first boss had the patience and soul of a monk. Of a series of monks.
She was an idiot.
Hiring me was a one way ticket to the land of crash and burn.
Seriously.
The title? College Slide Projectionist. The job? Carefully selecting the correct slide from its slot in the black plastic tray and placing it right side up into the projector. One slide at a time. Yes, kidlets this was long before the time of the PowerPoint presentation.
The class? Fine Arts 125, an introduction to the world of art from the dawn of time through to the 20th Century. It was an evening class, held on campus at 7:00 PM on Thursday nights throughout the Fall and Winter sessions. The class was mostly young students hoping to gain “an easy credit” and mature, earnest full time workers yearning to gain some culture. Most were exhausted, their bellies full from dinner.
My First Job? Next Slide, Please.
I’m 16. And for the first hour of my first job I am thrilled to be here amongst my “peers.” Nevermind that I’m standing at the back of the room, in the pitch dark and still wearing my private school uniform of maroon blazer, white shirt and gray pleated skirt. Someone will be impressed by my nimble fingers. I’ll bet they’ll hire me for more work. Perhaps at their next party where they’ll show off their family photos!
“Next slide, please.”
Ok. I’m on it.
Pop slide in. Shunt the slide into place. The statue of David flashes on the screen in all his naked glory.
The prof’s voice drones on. My homework calls. Surely I can do it by the light of the projector. Oops. Should have brought my smaller textbook. This one won’t fit on the weensy table. I drop my pencil. It rolls several rows down, out of sight.
“Next slide, please.”
Damn. Which one? I squinch up my eyes to focus in on the empty spot in the tray. Got it.
My eyes become accustomed to the gloom. With my homework chore made impossible, I allow myself to study the classmates.
Huh. That guy two rows down is kind of cute. Too bad he’s sitting so close to the girl beside him. Maybe she’s his sister?
“Next slide, please.”
Yes. Dammit. Give me a minute. There.
“Kelly. It’s upside down. Please right it.”
What? Looks fine to me. Damn Picasso.
“Next slide, please.”
So soon? Christ. This is truly mind numbingly dull. I’ve no idea why every one else looks riveted. It’s so hot in here and I can’t hear anything over the hum of ancient machine.
Maybe I can distract the prof? Make her lose her place. Or laugh? I wiggle my fingers above my head pantomiming the vision on the screen. Nothing. No reaction.
“Next slide, please.”
What? Seriously? Ok, Madame, the challenge is ON. As the weeks unfold I find myself standing on my head in the back of the room. Only the prof can see me. I whirl my legs in the air. Once back on my feet, I make faces at her, wave my hands in the air, pretend that I’m about to drop her precious slide tray.
Naturally, this Art Historian finally becomes more than a tad impatient with me. And a little short. The unwitting students gradually take note. They actually begin to take pity on me. At the end of the last class I’m presented with a thoughtfully handwritten card that’s signed by almost all of them, a bottle of perfume and a pot of shiny lip gloss. And more than my fair share of sympathetic hugs.
Yep, no one can understand the prof’s brusque treatment of her innocent slide projectionist. Except me. I marvel at her never ending patience and her ability to steadfastly overlook my rudeness, my apathy and my immaturity.
Why on earth did she keep me on? This prof in the Fine Arts Department at the University of British Columbia has a pool of eager students from which to choose. Yet she chooses me and keeps me on. Me. Her ungrateful, selfish, still in highschool 16 year-old daughter. Yes, my first boss is my long-suffering, beyond patient mother.
Bless you, Mom. I do apologise.
This post was inspired by the Finish The Sentence prompt of “My First Job …”
As always, our host is the lovely Kristi . Today’s guest hosts are Kerri of Undiagnosed But Ok (the thinker upper!) and me. Click on the lovely blue link below to be magically transported to the land of the other folks also participating in this sentence finisher.
Enough about me and “My first job? Next slide, please” blather. I’m curious about you. Can you remember your first job? Were you as horrid as me or were you an employer’s dream? Any other slide projectionists out there? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.
56 Responses
I love it and I didn’t even see that coming! I should have made the connection immediately when I saw her painting as your thumbnail image. I was wondering how you got away with so much. Now I have to read it again.
Oh my poor mother, Kenya. It must have been horrid for her to have me standing there at the back taunting her. She swears she couldn’t see me that well though … hmmmm …
Love this, what a hilarious first job ! Love the gifts and cards from the students, and I did not see that coming that the prof was your Mum !!
Thanks, Jane. My poor mom. She really had to put up with so much from me. I couldn’t believe it when the students presented me with the gifts. One chap even wrote me a poem. I’d love to find that gem today. Had a look but it’s gone missing.
I had a feeling ti was your mom, because at 16 I so would have treated my mom sadly the same way as you did here. Great story though and truly made me smile brining me back to my teen years totally 😉
Thanks, Janine. Good to know there were other daughters out there who tortured their mothers!
I LOVE stories with surprise endings!
Me too, Kathy! Thanks for reading and leaving a comment. Here’s to lots of surprise endings for us both!
Hilarious…towards the end, I had a feeling maybe it was your mom — how great that it was! She sounds pretty cool to me. And you too of course. 🙂
She is really quite something, Emily. Now 92 she continues to be busier most days than I am. This hot weather has her flagging however. We are all hoping for some rain so she can pick up her paint brush again.
How awesome that it was your mom! Does sound like a boring job though 🙂
Thanks for helping me co-host this week, Kelly!!
My pleasure, Kristi. And yes, it was such a tedious job. It didn’t help that it was at night and the room was dark …
Love this, Kelly! You and your mom are an amazing pair.
Aw, Donna once again you’ve made me smile. Thank you. Thank you for reading and for leaving a comment. Mom is really quite something. Lately its been too hot for her to paint and we are all hoping for some cooler temperatures and some rain. At last count we have over 200 wild fires burning here. Ouch.
Ha! I love the twist ending. I didn’t see it coming.
I think I would have lost my mind doing this!
Oh, Tamara, you have no idea. As I commented earlier, it didn’t help that the room was dark and it was late and everyone else was transfixed with the lecture material and I was 16 …
ohmygosh I did NOT see that coming!! I was thinking, “Wow- making faces and being that rude to the prof? That was brutal!!” Now I get it. 🙂
I know, I don’t know how she put up with me. She says she couldn’t really see me as it was dark and the projector light was beaming but I think she was just being kind. And more than a little tolerant of her youngest child. May I have half her patience.
WOW – I so loved the visuals of you taunting the professor – your poor mother. I have to think, however, that she had a small clue of what she was in for before she gave you this gig. Makes me giggle.
I agree with you, Mardra. She must have had a weensy clue of what she was in for. To this day I am amazed at her patience.
This post was great! I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one who didn’t catch on that the professor was your Mom. I remember those slide trays and how easy it was to put one in upside down and backwards. We have a couple of those trays stored away, as well as a bunch of slides.
Thank you, Pat. It was easy to put those slides in upside down and back to front, wasn’t it? I have to say that I did get better at it as time went along and that, yes, surprise, surprise Mom actually hired me to work for her during the summer.
Love the story 🙂 I’ve had several different jobs, but I’ve never had a job that I liked. I don’t know if there is one that’s varied enough for me, and that uses my strengths. But now I’m on disability, so I don’t have to try to find one that fits me.
It’s amazing how life slips along and we work right alongside, isn’t it, Linda? There were one or two jobs in my life that I’ve loved and a couple that I’ve been not so fond of. I just wish I could make more money at this writing gig that I adore. I’m working on that now. We’ll see. Sending you healing wishes.
Yes, it is. I wish the same for my art and other things. I’d love to free mysef from depending on the government for money. Thanks 🙂
If I can help you share anything, let me know
Thank you so much, Linda. I welcome sharing of any posts anytime!
I caught on about halfway through when you started doing acrobatics.
My first “real” job was keeping track of paving material truckloads for highway construction. It was okay, I did the job decently, but I am not fond of outdoor work.
Oh that must have been difficult on the hot weather days, Scott. I always have a wave for the construction crews. Working outside mustn’t be easy.
So funny 😉 , but job is a job.
Well put, Anna. Well put.
Damn Picasso indeed – he should have known that one day his art would be confusing to a 16-year old girl. From the description of your antics Kelly – I’m not sure my mother would have still paid me! My guess is that your mom secretly admired your creatively disruptive attitude!
I’d like to think that was the case, Susan. I used to think she was exhausted and was summoning all her energy into prepping for the class. But maybe you’re right. She was beyond tolerant. Apparently she did comment on this post but I can’t find the comment anywhere and she can’t remember what she wrote! I’ll ask her next time I see her.
kelly- you always make me giggle when I read your stories! I’m thinking through this that this would have been a job I loved. My first job was working in a shoe store- hence my continued love for a full closet of shoes!
Yes, i bet you would have loved the class, Sue. Mom was a great prof, too. She made the art come alive. Unfortunately at 16 I didn’t get that. And a shoe store! Ooohhh that’s cool.
Your Mom is awesome! Not only is she a pistol at 90+, but clearly she was something special even when you were in your “difficult” years. I wonder, did anyone in the class pick up on the fact that you were the teacher’s daughter? 😉
She loves your pistol references, Anna. Thank you! As for the class, novody picked up on it. They apparently asked Mom for permission to give me a gift. “Would it be alright if we gave your POOR assistant a wee something? She had a rough go …”
I’ve got you all figured out now. You are the hilarious daughter of a saint. And nice nice going managing to win sympathy and gifts from the student body. That’s priceless. Just like you are.
Oh thank you, Deborah. All these years later I can’t believe I kept them in the dark! Mind you, I was in the very back of the classroom that was sloped. So I was up there in the dark oerforming all my antics. Poor Mom. At least she can’t really say I cut YEARS off her life …
Oh my gosh. You make me laugh. I was wondering how you managed to stay employed too, until the reveal at the end! Ha!! How sweet. Mothers are so wonderful, aren’t they? It seems yours is, anyways, and so is mine.
My first job was not quite as elegant as yours. I worked at Dairy Queen. The boss was a perv and we all knew it (all of us GIRLS who were of course the only ones hired). So I always stayed on the opposite end of the island as him. I can be rather resourceful when it comes to staying away from creepy people. He made us add up the totals in our heads. Good thing I knew my addition and times tables. He also made us work “on call” for no pay so I did not stay long in that job. After the first “on call” assignment, I quit. That was probably illegal, even in the 80’s. Too many icky things added up quickly to a no-go for me. No pun intended. I liked the free ice cream though. That was fun – especially since I was the teenager who never gained a pound no matter what I ate.
Oh my, my, my. That is really horrid, Amy. What a dreadful fellow. And he made you add up the totals in your heads? Seriously. Not only horrid but foolish. Good on you to have the confidence to quit. Can’t help but wonder how many stayed on and toughed it out. And you were truly blessed to be able to eat however much you wanted. Is that still the case?
I love the surprise ending, and I love your mom (I think I may have mentioned that before!). My first job was babysitting the two month old twins next door – and I was only ten. Not sure what either of our parents were thinking!
Oh man you were brave to take on two year old twins at ten. I don’t htink I could have done that. My sister has twins and I loved looking after them whenever I could. However I was 27 when they were born…
Ha ha ha! Perfect.
I was a mess with slides and the whole “get them right side up and in the right order/right slot” thing. Thankfully, I was only ever “hired” to help my grandma show slides of her trips around the world to family members.
She travelled the world, your grandma? Well, how cool is that. Love to hear about where she went.
Hehe … What a fun memory. I actually loved my first job. I was learning to be a florist age 17 and managed to score an apprenticeship working in shops next to Windsor Castle and Marlow. Such beautiful areas. I was very lucky 🙂
Oh, Kama this is just the coolest job ever. My nieces would have loved it. They are HUGE Royal fans. And to work in such a beautiful area with flowers? Pure magic. So much better than a dark, dusty classroom …
I did not see that punchline coming but LOVED it! You really should publish an anthology of posts about your dear mom!
I know – she really wants me to do just that.
Oh Kel! Your poor mom! Well, by then she’d had 16 years to practice keeping a straight face around your antic, so no wonder she was thoroughly unpipped by the proceedings. Still, I’ll forever cherish the image of you standing on your head in your school uniform.
Wow, lots of fun memories can come out of a seemingly boring job! My first job was at the airport and I loved it. I had to let people through the gates and count their boarding passes. I was feeling soooo important at the time 😉
This was so cute. How fun that your mom was an Art History professor. Not that it’s the same thing but it makes me think of a story my husband tells about watching slides as a young boy at his uncle’s house. The wife (his 2nd) was going through the slides before they popped up on the screen with all the family to see. John said later he grabbed a few of the discarded slides and held them up to the light and they were of the wife — naked, in the backyard. He always says how stupid. What if she had missed one and it flashed up on the big screen? I guess maybe she would have like the attention. That marriage didn’t last long.
Oh my word. She sounds like she was quite something. Can you imagine? I’m with you. I’m thinking she must have caused quite the stir by going through the slides first and pulling some out. Of course your future husband went through the discard pile. I’d probably have done the same.
Kelly, You are so funny! My first job . . .. selling worms! We lived in the midst of lake country & on a highway with boat after boat being pulled by. So I painted a sign, “Worms for Sale,” my brothers and I dug them up and counted them out into soup cans to the happy fishermen/women.
Oh this is very entrepreneurial of you, Janet! I grew up fishing in the ocean and didn’t encounter worms as bait until my mid 20’s. I was visiting with my friend at her cottage. She kindly put the worms on the hook for me. It took me awhile but I finally summoned up the courage to do it myself. Good on you for digging them up and plopping them into the soup cans.
The first job I ever had was serving ice cream…I gained 20 lbs!
Oh my my my.Reminds me of my pal who worked in a resort town’s doughnut shop. She said it was a very popular shop and she ate the most product. She gained 10 lbs in two months.