Back in the day, before labour laws were changed so you really couldn't hire anyone who was 13 years old, I had my first real job. I'm not counting the two weeks of paper delivery because that was kind of stupid, I'm not sure if I even got paid for it. The summer before starting grade nine, as I recall, I had answered a temp ad in the paper for general labour work. I didn't know what that meant but I didn't really care, $1.85 an hour baby!!
As instructed I made the long trek down to Spadina Avenue in the garment district. Six young boys standing around inside a sock factory, yes I said sock factory, waiting for instructions from some coverall wearing boss. I remember being very nervous, I wanted to do well but I didn't know what I was going to be doing so how was I going to do well? My dad wasn't there to show me the right way...what the hell was I gonna do. Why do these other guys look older than me? Am I even in the right place? Who the hell needs a factory for making socks anyway? Ahem....pay attention boys.
Uh oh...here we go. And thus started the best job I have ever had. It had it all, tom foolery, sweat, physical exertion, destruction and french fries. The six of us were given sledge hammers and told to go forth and break everything that was wood on the factory floors. Excuse me, can you say that again? Break everything? You want to pay me to swing this sledge hammer and smash the fuck out of everything in here? I am certain that the smiles across all of our faces was simply precious. We were being given permission to do the very thing that society absolutely prevented us from doing every other minute of our lives...destroying things.
Why was this my best job ever? If I think about it I would say it was freedom. I was young and like all of us at that age, jacked on all kinds of hormones. This was the freedom to burn them off while participating in organised anarchy. In my life I've owned a few of my own business's, ran both small and large kitchens, opened hotels, taught cooking, consulted, served, unloaded tractor trailers, shipped records, telemarketing and had numerous jobs in the restaurant field. I am, for the most part, respected in what I do and I do OK for myself, but that first job was still the best. A fifteen minute walk followed by a thirty minute bus ride, a forty minute subway ride and a fifteen minute streetcar ride to get to my place of destruction. Not to mention doing it all in reverse at the end of the day. All for $1.85 an hour. It was fantastic, it was also a long time ago so I only remember snippets. Randy sliding down the chute from the second to first floor every chance he got. Throwing balled up socks at each other. Shooting over to Lucy's Diner for fries and gravy for seventy five cents, A crush on the Portuguese girl on the fifth floor that was way too old for me. Speaking of which, remind me to tell you about almost getting engaged at the age of 16...funny story. All that was great, but smashing tables and shelving was the great part of the job. Like the perfect golf shot or the crack of the baseball when met with a bat, the sound of destruction was so exhilarating. It felt right, it felt good.
We spent four weeks destroying and when there was no more to break, we were told to start building. We assembled shelving from some metal strut like bars and rebuilt the damn place. Not nearly as much fun, actually it sucked when compared to swinging a sledge hammer, but it was another two weeks of pay before school started. Going into grade nine and what was known as high school in Ontario was an ominous time in my life. We had moved the year before where I got one year under my belt with these new kids before ending the year ready to start high school at Don Bosco. I knew few people, didn't fit in with the ones I did know. Maybe some of that angst was why I enjoyed breaking shit so much...I was really not looking forward to high school. Maybe breaking things helped me in the end because it turned out to be a great experience....creative destruction kind of thing, you know? Good times whatever the reason.
Didn't think I could slip in some life insight because of a job swinging a sledge hammer at the age of 13 did ya? Bah
Ciao
D
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