Crazy Shopping People (Radish Sneak Peek)

Babysitting Sucks, Retail Must Suck Less - Right?

At fifteen, there aren't that many options for employment. An industrious young teen could opt for neighborhood yard and snow removal work - but for my fifteen year old self, who was pretty much allergic to outside, yard work was a no. I had already learned that babysitting sucked; parents who entrusted me with what was supposed to be their most precious possessions were notoriously cheap, always late returning home, and were generally total weirdos. This quickly soured me on babysitting. My dad also had a bad habit of volunteering me to babysit for random people in the small town we lived in. I could not understand why these people would hire an unknown babysitter recommended by my unknown dad on the unknown value of his word! I could be a high priestess of Cthulhu, addicted to calling long distance to Micronesia, a nosy kleptomaniac with a penchant for stealing undergarments, or an enterprising young organ harvester.

They never wanted to know anything about me, they just wanted me on time and to have a pulse. These parents were so desperate for a babysitter, but they would always nickel and dime me for my pay, gleefully swindling a not yet assertive teen, and then wonder why I would never return to babysit again when asked. My dad would continue to volunteer me to babysit for potential ax-murderers; I knew the only way to stop this offering of his eldest daughter to random cheapos was to get a job in retail.

It was 1992 and my family was living in Embrun, a mostly French-speaking town in eastern Ontario. My French speaking skills were abysmal, which was ironic because I took French classes through elementary and high school. I also had a French-Canadian person available 24/7 in the form of my wonderful mother. Honestly, I was very lazy and never worked very diligently on learning and using my meager French skills. Taking this into account, my younger self evaluated potential job possibilities. The list was very short and consisted of: a badly lit three lane bowling alley located in the basement of the hockey arena, the hockey arena itself, a store that sold pools and spas, the dirty looking corner store, the poutine shack and the biggest store in town, budget-friendly Giant Tiger.

Crossing off most of the possibilities ended up being a very brief task:

❌ The bowling alley was creep-central that seemed to house chain-smoking alcoholics rather than bowling enthusiasts.

❌ Working a concession stand at the hockey arena was of no interest to me. My skate sharpening skills were also sorely lacking and it was too cold for my liking, call me picky.

❌ I also knew nothing about pools and spas, and I had heard from a friend that the owner was a perv. No thanks.

❌ The corner dépanneur (French-Canadian term for convenience store), was dirty. Really dirty. It seemed scuzzy because a number of unsavory types would camp out front 24/7, winter or summer. Fifteen is too young to work in such a eclectic atmosphere.

❌ The poutine shack (a wonderous French-Canadian food with straight cut fries topped with white cheddar cheese curds and covered by a flavorful dark gravy) was owned and run by a very large family and I assumed they preferred to keep their fabulous food recipes in the family.

✔ Giant Tiger was a mecca for local budget-minded people. It was also the only grocery, clothing and housewares store in town. I had noticed that they hired high school and post-secondary students to work evenings and weekends. It was quickly deemed to be my best (and only) bet.

It was time to embrace change and put together my first resume.