Five nights a week I work in a fast food shop serving fish, chicken and chips. A big part of my job there consists of cleaning. The worst task of all is the chicken machine. It starts with looking at the pile of spikes and sticky, greasy equipment that still has chicken leftovers attached. There are little corners you just can’t seem to reach.
The machine itself has some glass that needs to be taken out and scrubbed until it’s shiny. And then I stick my arms into the machine to scrub that as well. The task seems to be never ending and I always cut myself or knock my fingers on the edges. When it’s finally over I sigh… time to do the chickens.
New chickens are stuffed, another horrible job, and put onto the spikes I’d just cleaned. Ready, so my boss can put them in the machine the next morning. At night I scrub the grease off my arms and fiddle with my nails, trying to get the dark, greasy bits out from underneath it. The next day I’ll come in only to do it all over again.
Mostly, I work to support my lifestyle and not the other way around. I’ve had one job though that was a lifestyle in itself. I’d love to do that again, because I was actually excited to go to work!
Two winters I worked for Thredbo Snow Sports in Australia. Working in a ski area feels a bit like a holiday. Most people are happy because they are on theirs and all the staff loves snow and skiing so much that they’re just happy to be around and hit the slopes as much as they can.
Even though I was miles away from home, I found a second home in Jindabyne, living in a small cottage with some awesome people. Every day we made the half an hour trip to Thredbo, always excited to see what the weather was like on that side of the mountain. In my collegues I found family and friends. There really was an we’re-all-in-it-together-mentality.
During my first year I couldn’t ski yet and my new friends taught me how. Throughout my time in Thredbo I had the support of my collegues, who gave me tips and commented on my style constantly. I still remember the surprised faces when someone I worked with saw me in one of his ski classes.
My job involved organising things for the kids ski school. I set up the meeting area in the mornings, my least favourite job. Then I welcomed the kids and put them into the right classes. Throughout the day I helped the instructors on the snow, I set out treasure hunts and race days and supervised the lunches. It was all about making things go smooth. I worked in a small team that was part of a way bigger team, but that meant we were very flexible and if there was a big dump of snow, there’d be time for a ski.
I loved my job! I hope I can get similar jobs in the future. Often I feel restless. Often I feel like I’m wasting time in my life. Not in the ski fields. I loved being there. I enjoyed every minute of it. If you haven’t found your dream job yet, try the ski fields. It doesn’t matter if you’re a novice or a die hard ski bum. You’ll become one soon enough.
I started working in a chicken shop. I started working in a chicken shop and every night I smell like a frying pan. Every night I smell like a frying pan so I take my showers at night. I take my showers at night and just tie my hair back the next morning. I tie my hair back in the morning because I will see the chicken shop again at night. I have to go to that chicken shop again in my greasy, dirty, black shirt. In my greasy, dirty, black shirt, my hair tied back, my style has gone down drastically. I blame the chickens.
This post is inspired by the daily prompt Style Icon.
Some people just know how to do it. They seem to know exactly how they can diminish you to a tiny little person. A dot in a wide field. A nobody surrounded by your own emotions. Some people take it so far that anything they do just makes you mad with anger.
During my first year in Australia I had to do 3 months of farm work to extend my stay by another year. Time was of an issue, so I was very happy, although nervous, that I’d found a farm that could take me in for the whole period. Little did I know I was right to be nervous. Continue reading King of asshole-land→