MICHAEL
Following are a few creative writing pieces documenting various times and events in my life. So far.
Thursday, November 16, 2023
A D A Y F U L L - F I L L E D
Thursday, September 16, 2021
WORKING (I Did It for the Money)
A chronological account of my varied employment history, and in part, why I am the way I am.
Getting the Worm
The Province Newspaper - 1970
My introduction to the world of work began at the tender age of 12, or was it 13? It was then that I inherited a morning paper route from, I think, one of my older brothers. (One of many things I was handed down over the years.) This required rising from my bed at
Citizen Boy
The Citizen Newspaper - 1971
After too many early mornings, I changed jobs to delivering a weekly local paper in my own neighbourhood. The highlight of this experience was being assigned the moniker “Citizen Boy” by a neighbourhood teen each time I arrived at his door for collections. With Orson Welles in mind, I wore this as a badge, until I realized it came from someone whose nickname was Fish. I never knew why.
As well, this job gave me the unique opportunity to be slugged by the local bully. “This is for your older brother!” he exclaimed one day as I made my rounds, just before his fist met with my cheekbone.
“Which one?” I mistakenly replied,” I have two.” SLAM! went fist to cheek again. It was then I decided to refrain from telling him I had a younger brother, too.
Hold On Tight
Hanlon’s Floor and Window Cleaning - 1972
I got this part time job from a friend whose father owned the company. Other than some pocket money, there was nothing significant about this experience, though I did learn the proper technique of using a floor mop (figure 8s) and how to handle one of those crazy spinning floor polishers, which was all about balance and concentration. Those occasions when either of those was lacking would send this humming machine careening wildly in all directions.
I recall going to my friend’s house at the appointed hour, where we would be loaded into the back of a van with various pieces of large equipment. Off we would go to the job site, hunched down near the floor to keep from falling over during turns and accelerations. Seat belts, or even seats for that matter, were not part of the experience.
Get ‘Em While They’re Young
Youth Crew Summer - 1972
At the suggestion of my mother, I applied to a program called BC Parks Youth Crew. This is a summer job where young men were given the unique opportunity to travel to remote locations and work hard for six days a week for a modest stipend. Sort of a summer camp for poor kids. Despite being exploited, it turned out to be a great experience. I spent two months at a provincial park called
Good friendships were formed, and experiences had, that I still recall fondly. It was not all work and no play, as we had more than a few adventures, (some well past curfew), such as a canoe trip where we constructed a plastic sheet sauna next to a glacial river. Imagine 16 sweating teenage boys ripping out of a large plastic tent, naked, screaming, and diving into an icy blue river. Yahoo!
Fries With That?
Western Teak - 1973
For this part time job, my friend George and I had the task of assembling and delivering various pieces of teak furniture. It was then that I learned just how heavy teak furniture really is. Each Saturday began with a stop at McDonalds to pick up a couple of extra large orange pops for the boss, so that he would have something to mix his vodka with. This would not be the only time an employer had issues with the bottle.
I Can Handle It
Schlage Lock - 1973
Joining my friend George once again, I experienced work in a real live factory, where for eight hours a day, workers would place pieces of metal under a large punch, hit the button, and BANG!, suddenly a doorknob would appear. Fortunately, George and I were given the job of Material Handlers, which meant keeping the people at the machines stocked with, well, material. This allowed us to be on the move, and avoid the absolute and relentless monotony of the machine work. This would be the first of a few jobs that over time helped me to appreciate the better jobs I would later do.
Workin’ at the Car Wash
Shell Station - 1974
Nothing significant or particularly memorable about this short term job, which required operating and maintaining a mostly automatic car wash. I was, however, entertained by the opportunity to use the word nipple on a regular basis, that being the small steel receptacle for lubricant in large machines. Ah, the things that amuse the teenage mind.
Stitches and Itches
NorWes Building Materials - 1974-1977
This job kept me in cash for a few years of weekends and summers through high school and college. I was then what is now called a “Sales Associate”. I guess Clerk just wasn’t good enough. Any degree of ability and knowledge having to do with building stuff I owe to this experience. I also got a great discount on tools and things, some of which I still use more than 30 years later. No outstanding memories, other than discovering just how much a head wound bleeds when, while stepping backwards to check the label on a tall box, I tripped on one fork of a forklift and hit the back of my head on the other. Lots of blood, three stitches, and an itch I still feel.
Don’t Look Up
Paper Recycling Mill - 1977
With plans of “finding myself” in Europe, I took a full-time job as a forklift operator in a paper recycling mill. Obviously I didn’t hold a grudge toward the machine. As luck would have it, I was assigned the biggest and fastest forklift, which meant I always won when we raced through the towers of baled paper. I appreciated the bulk of my machine the day one of these bales, weighing hundreds of pounds, fell on top of it while I was operating. Whew! The smell of wet cardboard still recalls those days.
Gravity, The Scene Stealer
Severins’ Restaurant - 1979
Feeling a bit lost after six months in Europe, I began what was to become a series of jobs in the food service industry. After a few months earning my stripes as a busboy, I graduated to waiter. On the first night in my new role, I had served half of a party of twelve their main course. After loading and shouldering my tray in the kitchen with the other six plates, I wound up to kick the door open, only to discover that friction was not my friend that night. The floor was wet and my shoes were smooth, and I suddenly found myself flat on my back with food and plates everywhere. Then, to my dismay, the chef replaced the meat onto new plates, served out some fresh vegetables, and sent me on my way. My perspective on restaurant kitchens has never been the same.
Vertigo
Cargill Grain Elevator - 1980
I was A Man with a Plan. I had applied, and was accepted to the photography program at Ryerson Polytechnical Institute, in Toronto, a long way from my home in Vancouver, and a long way off financially. In search of quick cash, I travelled, in deep winter, to Alberta with my friend Ian to work in the oil patch. While waiting for an opportunity to open up, we took a job helping to construct a grain elevator in a town called Lacombe, where my grandmother lived. This required rising very early, donning all available winter clothing, and heading out in the cold morning light to slam nails into large planks laid horizontally atop one another high above the ground. Not a particularly pleasant experience, and fortunately short-lived.
Well, Well, Well, Well...
Beta Well Service - 1980
A few weeks later, opportunity knocked with an interview and training with an oil well service company. Soon I had joined a crew and began to discover just how dirty and dangerous this work was. Our job was to go to an existing well, park our rig over top the hole and service whatever problem existed. My job as a roughneck included attempting to pound stakes into frozen earth (terra extra firma) with a sledge hammer to secure the rig. On other days, I had to keep the oil from getting into my facial orifices as it spurted from the well on occasion, and I had to regularly keep reminding myself that it will be worth it. And thanks to my mostly Newfie crewmates, I learned all manner of new words and phrases that I haven’t been able to use appropriately since.
After about five months of cheap small town motels, laundromats with “No Oil Clothes” signs posted, and a considerably stronger physique, I left Alberta, bound for Toronto, with a reasonable amount of money in the bank.
Security Guard - 1981
Yes, it’s true. I was a night watchman, hired to, well, watch the night. The combined expenses of the photography program, rent, and sometimes food, left me in need of income...desperate need. So desperate, in fact, that I took a job working weekend nights in adjoining apartment buildings in a less than desirable part of Toronto. And so I would arrive on Friday night wearing my stately blue uniform, with a bag of books and a head full of wishful thinking, intending on using any available time to complete my homework. In reality, I would too often wake with the impression of book edges in my forehead, wondering how many of my hourly rounds I had missed.
Lemmon and Matthau?
The Coach and Four Restaurant - Summer, 1982
In search of adventure between school years, my girlfriend (now my wife) and I crossed the country to
Not a particularly fine restaurant, operated by two gay men, one of whom would swish through the dining room while his more rough-edged partner drank from his beer hidden in the paper towel dispenser in the kitchen. An odd couple indeed.
All Greek To Me
Anesty’s Restaurant - Summer, 1983
This restaurant experience turned out to be brief, but significant, as it was the first and only job I have been fired from. Anesty’s was a busy Greek restaurant in downtown
Hip and Happening
Earl’s
In a predominantly young and cool uptown neighbourhood, I got another waitering job at Earl’s Tin Palace Restaurant and, after
Another Serving of Pie?
The Bay - 1984
After graduating from the photography program, I returned to
But What Does It Mean?
QED - 1984
As I edged closer to my chosen profession, I took a job in an audio-visual company called QED. And I never found out what the acronym meant. Well before the digital age, much of my time was spent preparing title slides for slide shows (remember those?), and duplicating training videos for McDonald’s. Everything at McDonald’s has a correct procedure. And I wasn’t lovin’ it.
Working for The Big Fish
Derik Murray Photography - 1985-1987
After many months of hounding, I was hired as a photographer’s assistant, and eventually became studio manager (bigger title, slightly bigger salary), at a busy photography studio in
And Now For Something Completely Different
The fall of 1987 found me on a plane bound for
This experience provided me with two memorable opportunities. The first was spending twelve days crossing the Pacific on a cruise ship, while teaching a small group of Japanese students. Sailing from
Once a Giant
Bert Bell Photography - 1990-1992
I returned to
On My Own
Freelance Photographer - 1992-1994
After two (more) years in the passenger seat, I realized it was time to get behind the wheel, so I stepped out on my own. Over the course of two years, I worked on my portfolio, made a lot of calls, knocked on a lot of doors, and got a few good jobs. Just not enough. I was married now, and thinking of a family, and freelance income just wasn’t substantial enough. I never really rounded the corner to success in photography. Besides, I had been stung by the teaching bug in
Back to Class
For a few months, I taught ESL to young students from, well, everywhere. Unfortunately, this particular language school possessed no curriculum and no resources, other than a photocopier. I cringe now at the “lessons” I taught. A unique opportunity, however, did occur. While visiting
Each time I have visited
Finally, A Real Job!
With the support and encouragement of my wife, I entered the Faculty of Education at
Who knows? A return to photography remains an option. I do miss it, though the industry has changed radically. Everyone owns a camera, in one form or another. And lots of people call themselves photographers. Maybe when I retire from teaching, I’ll re-invent myself once again. Who knows?
P O S T C A R D S to S A M A R A A number of years ago, I spent some time teaching ESL to young adults from various countries in...
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Wanita's Farm W hile on a brief photography adventure in rural Ontario recently, an abandoned farm caught my eye. I stopped, pulled up ...
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WORKING (I Did It for the Money) A chronological account of my varied employment history, and in part, why I am the way I am. Gettin...
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A D A Y F U L L - F I L L E D The Tragicomic Musings of a DD Teacher (Originally written in 2018) (DD is an acronym for Developmental...