My First Job
There is a lot left unsaid about my first job. I see working as somewhat crucial to my identity. I think this job had a lot to do with it. Here’s why.
It’s no accident that I got a job when I did.
It’s rather one of pure coincidence.
The year was 2015. I had just passed my driving test, on the second attempt, and I was raring to be let loose on the (sometimes) dangerous roads.
I distinctively remember sitting in the car with my dad on the way back from playing golf, days after passing my driving test, and he receives a text from my future boss Glenn.
Glenn was a fellow golfer at our local club. He was looking for staff to join the team at Orpington Golf Centre.
Why does passing a driving test and getting an interview for a job through my Dad correlate?
The golf centre is on an isolated road, fifteen minutes away from the nearest bus stop and there was no direct route from my house to the location — a car was going to be perfect.
It’s about three miles from my house. It could take between six minutes and thirty minutes dependent on the time of the day and traffic. Most morning shifts started at 6:30 am, so as you can imagine, a car was going to preferable in the long run anyway.
I had my interview and was offered a job to work at Orpington.
I was 17.
It was my first job.
I was naive. I was ignorant. I misunderstood people. I was scared, and I showed it.
I was a lot of things. But I was also unapologetically myself.
I worked there from February 2015 — June 2017.
I learned a lot. I matured. I made some lifelong friends. I gained a new perspective.
People threatened me. People harassed me. A lot of times I felt unsafe.
I was a small, brown kid in an environment filled with older, white men.
The tension was high. I overcame it. I now have interpersonal skills. I understand people better. My selling technique is the honest sell.
I often told people they could buy it cheaper elsewhere, but they would now have to spend petrol money, time and energy talking to another retail assistant and haggle where I was giving them a free round of golf with their purchase.
Managers often celebrated my selling record. For a small, brown kid who had no place but a vast expanse of knowledge on the sport — I did pretty well.
Some customers were horrible. It’s retail. It’s bound to happen.
The ones who threatened me were usually the ones from one of the caravan parks. I felt intimidated by the thought of violence. I hated violence. I couldn’t relate to them. I had nothing in common. Words wouldn’t matter. I had to resort to other measures.
I had to be strong. I had to be tough. I had to stoop down to their level. Use words that they used to get their attention. Talk in a dialect which would make me fit in.
No doesn’t usually mean no for these people. They typically get their own way.
It was two years of trial and error. It got to the point where they were one reason I left.
It came to a point where it was unbearable. I took my anger home with me. I didn’t have an outlet to release my frustration. Once, I shouted at my Mum quite ferociously, something I haven’t done since I started working. My next shift, I handed in my notice.
That is a surface-level story.
There is a lot more.
I often visit Orpington to have a chilled and enjoyable debate with the staff.
Why?
Some of them are my closest friends and mentors. They’re typically older and more experienced.
I’ll list a few to share the tale:
Kevin (pictured above) — one of the chefs. Has an excellent cognition about how the world works. He got me into fitness. His story inspires me to take mine more seriously. He has managed to develop a perception of others based on experience rather than speculation. Something I have helped him do, in his words. A very pleasurable gentleman that always has my best interest at heart.
Phil — head chef. Easy going, tall and somewhat haphazard. He is someone who has his priorities in order and often says it how it is. He isn’t afraid to hurt feelings in pursuit of the truth. He takes a lot of backlash from customers for others mistakes but has an old head on his shoulders. He is now starting to make longlasting life decisions, and I couldn’t be more proud to call him a friend.
James — pro shop assistant/ former manager at another establishment. Recently James left the company. He is someone I call upon for serious advice. I don’t take advice from most people. Especially those who have no idea of perspective. James has that. He also has a sense of practicality. He is starting a new job next week, and I can’t wait to see how he grows.
Sam — pro shop assistant. Sam is younger than me. Doing his A Levels now. He is much brighter than me. We were the only ones, in the pro shop at least, (except for the big boss and Ted) who had done (or were in the process of doing) A Levels. He has a big mouth and often got him in trouble. His ending at the company was as comedic as his time there. He’s got a lot to learn but wouldn’t change him for the world.
JD — pro shop assistant. He is the grandad of the group. He always spoke so right of the world that his life advice stuck with me. Born Irish with a heart of gold. He is someone who deserves a lot more credit than he gives himself. He did all my hoover duties, and I suppose that’s at the heart of my gratefulness. Jokes aside, he was integral to calming down from encounters and a phenomenal human.
Chris B — bar assistant. There were two Chris’. One was a racist, misogynistic idiot who I reported to the big boss on more than one occasion. I was happy to leave him behind. Chris B, on the other hand, was someone very refreshing. He is Woody Harrelson stunt double. An incredible story and incredible memories he shared with me. I think Chris B represents the definition of humble. Someone in the direct stardom and yet can wipe the surface clean at a bar in Orpington.
Amongst others: Suzie, Ted, Nick, Jamie, Harry and some more — this was my ‘family’ for two years.
There were cliques in part. Something which I attempted to steer clear.
For me, Orpington taught me a lot about sticking to character.
I am the man that I am today because of that job.
Strange as that sounds now.