Sunday, September 4, 2011
My first job was…
Our family was young when I took my first “job.” Mom was struggling to keep food on the table, and each of us (I think) found some way to help—whether it was working at a job or helping in the house or…whatever. We all contributed. That’s how a family works, right? Well, I took my first job when I was too young to know any better.
There is a local company that produces dairy products. I used to go there to sample the ice cream. Yeah. Well, one day Mom and I were there and they saw how adorable I was. Someone came out and asked if I’d like to star in an advertisement they were doing.
Are there red lights flashing in your head? Do you see a huge stop-sign in your mind? Yeah, me too…but at the time, it sounded fun. Dressing up in a cow outfit? What could be more fun? What could be more adorable? Are you kidding me? I was going to be a star.
The ad didn’t air for long—thank the good Lord!—and we didn’t tell anyone about it at the time. Not even my siblings. It was a bit humiliating, after all…my cute little round face poking out of a cow costume. Though…I always suspected my older siblings knew about it, due to a cow-type nickname they used to have for me (along with a song which Steven will be happy to teach you, I’m sure—though, I hope one of you will assure him that if he shares the song anywhere on the internet [and trust me, I’ll know if he does], those Parkay photos are going up. Everywhere.).
I digress. The agreement Mom entered into with the company was to forego any monetary compensation and pay us in a free year’s supply of milk. We totally scored. A family of seven growing kids? We drank a whole herd’s weight in milk that year, I’m sure.
So. That was my first job. That was my big contribution to the family. That…if you want to know the truth…is why I’ve always had a “thing” for cows—they provided for us when we needed it the most.
And that aint no bull.
All my love,