First Job
by Jill Kristofferson.

At the age of sixteen and after I had just passed grade ten I decided to get a job for the summer. All dressed up in my best wool suit and good shoes, I was set to take the world on. I asked my mom if she would drive me to Whalley but she shook her head: no. We had very lousy bus services, so It was walking or nothing. I walked all the way to Whalley, about six miles, to put in a couple of applications. It was a hot day for June and walking was very difficult. I was getting very tired and frustrated from the heat, walking too much, and from the turn-downs from employers. The last place I went to was Panco Poultry.

I stood outside the office door for a few minutes to get my nerves together, as I had butterflies in my stomach. I walked to the closest desk and said that I was looking for a job for the summer. A short, half bald man of 50 looked at me with cold blue eyes. He asked me one question which threw me off guard. The question was, "Are you right handed"? I said, "Yes". He then said, "You start Monday morning at 7:30 a m".

I couldn't believe my ears. I got a job! My heart skipped a beat as I skipped out the door.

Monday morning I was up bright and early with my lunch in hand and my spirits high, to go to work. My Dad drove me that first day but he also said that I would have to make arrangements to get a ride to and from work thereafter. Through the back door I walked, proud as can be, down the hallway like everybody else to the laundry room. There stood the man who hired me with his piercing eyes. He looked me up and down with interest, grumbling under his breath. He threw me a very starchy uniform. I put the stiff uniform on, placed my lunch on the table like everybody else and followed them into the factory. I was extremely nervous with sweaty hands and happy with heart. A huge muscular lady stopped in front of me and asked if I was the new girl. I said, "Yes," thinking that this person must be from the army because she was built like a tank with a very authoritative voice to match. This lady's name was Lila and she was going to be my supervisor. We marched down to the end of the building where all the assembly lines were. As she handed me a hook knife I noticed how much larger her hands were than mine. She stepped up and pushed herself between two other ladies on the assembly line and told me to watch her as this would be what I would be doing. A quick 60 seconds went by and then she stepped down and told me to go ahead and give it a try.

So with the hook knife in hand I started to cut the breast off the chicken. Like all assembly lines everybody does one thing and only one thing and the next person is doing her thing. I cut chicken breasts for eight long tiring hours. My legs were stiff and sore, my back ached, and my head hurt, but my arms and hands got the worst treatment of all. After eight hours we quit, at least I thought it was the end of the day and we walked into the lunchroom for a ten minute coffee break. I was sure surprised to find out it was not the end of the day.