One of the unique things about the job I began a few months ago is the amount of time I spend in the car. The service area of the company I work for spans from the far south suburbs of Chicago, all the way up to northern Wisconsin. And although most of my work is in northern Illinois and Southeast Wisconsin, I spend a ton of time in the car. Most of that time is spent listening to the blowhards spew their nonsense on Chicago sports talk radio (both hosts and callers), but when I've had enough of their dribble I'll turn my attention to other subjects.
Earlier today, I was thinking about my current job in light of all of the jobs I had before this one and what makes this current one unique from the others. In a nutshell, I was trying to piece together exactly how it became that I got to where I am today. Its really not that interesting of a story, but I found it semi-humorous when I thought back about all of the jobs, the bosses, the companies, and experiences I had prior to today. And after hearing from Mardy King (an alias for an amiga of Romeo Sierra) that my blog needs less sports content, I decided to give readers some insight into the jobs (both good and bad) throughout my life. I'll do it in parts, with the first installment a summary of my early work history and I'll try to provide some relevant insight into what I took from those experiences.
My first job ever was at Northmoor Country Club as a caddy at age 14. Northmoor is a private club that I only knew about because it was located across the street from my junior high school and very close to my parents' home. I wasn't particularly interested in golf, but heard they'd hire just about anyone as a caddy, and the job seemed reasonably easy. I don't recall much from the interview process, other than I was asked to caddy for the caddymaster to demonstrate my skill in raking traps, staying out of the way, and my understanding of etiquette.
Once I began the job, I was the lowest of the low on the caddy totem poll, which meant caddying for golfers that weren't exactly young, good at the game of golf, or remotely interesting to be around. I worked for a caddymaster with a handy little drug and gambling problem, but he was always nice to me and most of his funny business took place outside of my line of sight. And if it was going on, I was way too clueless to know what was going on.
Most of what I learned from that job still stays with me to this day; but those lessons are much more applicable on the golf course than the corporate world. I got hooked on the game of golf, developed some understanding of its rules, and how to follow direction from an adult that wasn't my mother or father. But that's about it.
The following summer, I decided to "take my caddying talents" to Lakeshore Country Club, also located near my parents' home. At Lakeshore, I had a bit of a sense for what I was getting in to, and was much more comfortable interacting with members, my boss, and other caddies. The caddymaster was an old, bitter guy but he liked me, and even acknowledged my service to the Lakeshore members by bestowing upon me the "Rookie Caddy of the Year" award. You won't find that in the "honors and achievements" section of my current resume, but I do remember being proud of that award. There were a few 'regular' members I caddied for who may have had a say in the outcome, but it was nice to get some form of recognition for a summer full of ass-kissing.
But despite the public praise, I hated the job. I grew tired of lugging around tons of weight and as a golfer it was painful to watch wealthy hacks make a mockery of a game that I wanted to be playing every waking minute of the summer. I used to have these fantasies of getting to the furthest hole from the club house, dropping the bags, and turning to the members and saying something like, "carry your own damn bags." But I never had the courage to do that, and that was probably the biggest lesson I took from that job: even if I didn't necessarily enjoy or like it, I owed it to my employer to put my best foot forward. And it also was nice to be recognized for putting a good effort in to something; which I try and remember whenever the tables are turned and I'm in the position where I'm the recipient of good service. It matters to the person who hears it, and I try to remember that as I go about my day (both at work and elsewhere).
After two summers baking in the sun, I knew it was time for me to move in to a more 'service' oriented business, and took a job at Lebo's Shoe Outlet as a sales associate. Luckily, Juliet Mike (a close friend) joined me in the quest to become the best 15 year old shoe salesmen this side of Lake Cook road. He and I spent most of our summer shooting baskets (there was a hoop in the store), organizing shoe displays, and helping the occasional customer pick out a new pair of shoes. I learned how to understand what a customer needs, how to sell them something they had very little interest in (Reebok Pumps?), and how to handle a timecard. Juliet Mike and I stuck it out for probably 9 months to a year, which in the world of a 16 year old kid is a lifetime.
My Lebo's experience also gave me some appreciation for having fun at work. Look, if you're going to spend your time there, you might as well laugh a little and have some fun along the way. And with that spirit, I moved on to health club where I was essentially paid to look after kids while their parents worked out. In addition to being around kids all day, I worked with another close friend (Charlie Sierra) and it was easily the most fun I've had in any job. I mean, what other job can you be paid to play dodgeball, do a bunch of arts and crafts, and generally goof around for the entire time you're there?
I think this job helped me be comfortable around little kids, and that experience has benefits that extend well beyond my professional life. Its not easy to entertain little kids, and although my brother and sister might not love some of the "Uncle Dan" influence, my experience at the club forced me to find creative ways to entertain kids. This job was also pivotal in the establishment of the Delta Whiskey Diaper Changing Policy, which is essentially "#1s are fine, #2s require intervention from a parent." The nice thing was, the health club supported this policy, so whenever we smelled a stinker we'd find the parent on the treadmill and have them come down to change it without a single wipey-dipe. I'm not certain that policy would hold up if I end up having kids of my own, but for the time being it has worked out OK for me. For parents or caregivers out there, I would NOT suggest implementation of this policy without first checking with your significant other.
Stay tuned for Part II, when we'll visit the jobs throughout college and my 20-something years....
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