New Residency (workshop essay)

I walked away from my first job interview and nailed it. I knew every question they could throw at me and paired it with a stunning answer. Ok, so what if my sister was the manager, and so what if she prepped me with all of the interview questions ahead of time. I was only 15 and I was hungry for some cash in my pocket. If I got hired I would be working in a dinning room within a retirement home. It was the perfect job for a high school student with short shifts each day right after class.    

Turns out a week later I got the job and I was ready for orientation. It wasn’t a big surprise when I got the phone call from my boss saying I got the job because my sister already told me I would get hired. But I can without a doubt replay the moment in my life when I was informed I earned my first job. I remember the conversation, the clothes I was wearing, the weather outside, and even the time I took the call. At the time, I had so much rifling through my head. What was I going to buy first, with my first big paycheck? I always wanted a mini fridge in my room. At the time it seemed really cool, I could buy my own soda and keep it in there along with, well, more soda. It seemed cool till I got it, then my parents had to ruin my proud purchase by telling me I could have always used the family fridge. Next I was thinking, this is it, my first job; this is the job I’m going to tell my kids about someday. After that I couldn’t help but to brag to all of my friends about how much money I was going to be making and all of the things I could do because of this endless cash flow.

I was ready to enter the world of business. I arrived at my first day of work 15 minutes early just like my father told me. Turns out, I had no idea what door to go in or even what parking lot to park in. The building was huge. I wasn’t sure if I just park at the main entrance and walk through the lobby like the rest of the old folks or if I use some special side door. I was totally clueless, so I went with the main entrance. I walked in and took in the smell, look, sound and feeling of the retirement home.

It smelled like stale air mixed with a turkey roast and some old lady perfume. I will never forget that smell ever. The lobby looked beautiful, rich, classy, and bright. Two curving staircases that meet at the top of the 2^nd floor that was made out of detailed wood was the first to compliment your eye after walking through the door. Then the beautiful dark glossy Yamaha piano that stood at the center of everything was something that seemed so valuable in a retirement home. The piano seemed like it was in the center because it was their prize that they wanted everyone to see. Hanging above the piano was a striking crystal chandelier that acted as the focal point bringing everything together. Even the carpet and picture frames had this ornate detail that couldn’t go unseen. The sound of the place was quiet, very quiet. I walked through and could hear my shoelaces smack the slip resistant shoes I was wearing. It didn’t seem eerie, just calm because I knew there were a few hundred residents living in the building. I got this fragile feeling as I proceeded to do dinning room like the place was almost precious.

Once I opened the door to the dinning room where I would be working, it was, well, fun. The server station in the corner of the dinning room was littered with pictures of old fun memories. The waiters were all similar with age except the manger but even he was only ten years older then the average. I was greeted with a friendly “hey it’s the new kid!” which I found funny cause I would do the same. I meet my trainer Sarah that was going to be basically my teacher for the next few weeks. We immediately dove into a thick pile of papers filled with highlighted “sign here” lines and lame training manuals. After the paper work was done my brain was flooded with the kitchen scene. “This is the rack where you only put this, that is where this belongs, over here you will find these but If you want those you have to go back to here, remember not to put this here because we will hate you for it, every new kid does this, make sure that’s not you, remember when this runs out you have to go back to here and open this and find a new one.” It was only a 4-hour shift and my brain was imploded with kitchen and serving information.

It was my first job and I think still the best. I had my sister to work with and made new friends who showed me a whole new world. My parents told me work corrupted me but I say it showed me the real world. My job was all about getting work done and having the most fun possible while doing it. We without a doubt had the most fun. I met a lot of really fun residents and also said goodbye to some truly close ones. I was given many nicknames as a new kid; “Brace face” was one that will always stick because of my smile full of metal when I had braces. I also earned a reputation to torture and question new kids and to open them up from being shy. In the beginning when I got the call and accepted a job offer as a server, it was actually accepting a whole new life on top of a life I already had.