Hot Walkin' Momma, That's Me

I love animals. I know a lot of people say that, but if you doubt it for even a moment, let me tell you about my most disgusting summer job-- one I did for 3 years in middle school and my freshman year of high school.

Marshfield Fair-- a yearly wonder that is one of the oldest town fairs in the country (there are debates about which one wins that honor). It's hundreds of years old, in any event, and at one time featured horse racing. I got a job one summer, being horse crazy and obsessed, as a hot-walker and scraper.

How gross is it? Hot-walking is just walking the horses in slow, calming circles while they cool off. Scraping... well, when the horses come off the track, covered in lather and sweat, a scraper uses a long plastic square to actually scrape the sweat and scuz from the animal's body. The foam and sweat get all over you.

Yep. THAT is how much I love animals. And I went back two more summers to do it, even though I'd been bitten, stomped, shoved, and bruised up day after day. A lot of the horses running Marshfield Fair were either making a little money before they died, or being worked to death after an injury. Most were in rough shape. Some-- a lucky few-- were recovering from injury or learning the ropes before going on to decent lives. But those horses were rare.

So I let them stomp on me, bite me, slam me up against stalls that left splinters all over me. And I whispered or sang to them when I could. Poor babies needed somebody to care at least once.

Most other kids got jobs selling concession stand stuff, running rides, or parking cars. Most other girls were smart enough to be showing off their tans and being all cute for the guys. I was in the barns getting covered in filth and stinking pretty bad.

Real heart-breaker, me.

In the end, though, I came to meet some incredible old horse-people. I hung out with jockeys and trainers, learned some neat tricks I took home to my own horse, was taught to spot bad feet, lots of ailments, and how to fix something fast. I had a boyfriend in that last year who was nice enough not to complain about the smell.
I still love horses. The smell of manure and hay, liniment and tack oil still makes me feel more welcome than grossed out. I can, I will admit, do without the sweat and scum all over me and my button-fly Levis. But then, I've grown quite a bit... I hope.

Coolest. Job. Ever.

To date, my best summer job ever happened the summer in between my freshman and sophomore years of college, back in 1996. That was the year that Atlanta hosted the Olympic Games.

I should probably back up a bit. During my freshman year (well, actually all throughout college), I worked part-time in the box office on campus, selling tickets for all types of theatrical and musical events. We were using a brand-new computer ticket sales program, which certainly wasn't complicated, but not many people in the country had been trained on it.

Turns out that the Olympic ticket sales used that very same computer program, so they sent press releases to every box office across the country using that program, encouraging us to apply to work for the Games.

Well, duh. Of course I jumped at the chance. Who wouldn't?

But the temp agency doing the hiring kept losing my application. Seriously. I had to send it in 4 times, and eventually I made friends with the lady doing the hiring. She made certain to specifically look for my application that 4th time.

Which was a Very Good Thing. Because a slightly different position opened right about then...the Olympic Family Hotel (actually, it was the Marriott Marquis in downtown Atlanta, but during the summer of the Olympic Games they always call the hotel hosting all the foreign dignitaries, IOC members, and VIPs the "Olympic Family Hotel") needed another employee in the IOC Ticketing Office, and the hiring lady noticed on my resume that I spoke French and some Spanish, and that I was majoring in International Relations. So she called me and asked if I'd be interested in working there instead of at one of the venues.

OK, let's think about this. Air conditioning, as close to business attire as you can get in regulation Olympc Games clothing, and access to heads of state and royalty? Hells yeah!

Turns out that the position was in Protocol, which meant that I worked in the unit who made the decisions as to who was higher than someone else, and thus got priority for complimentary access to the most popular sports. For example, President and Mrs. Clinton could walk into any event that they wanted and just show their security badge, and they'd get escorted to the VIP section, no questions asked. But Chelsea had to request her tickets in advance for the most popular events, such as Gold Medal Gymnastics, Basketball, and Swimming. And my office made the determination as to whether she would get them (hint: she always did).

Sometimes they needed additional hostesses at the VIP entrances of events, in which case, I got to work sporting events, not selling tickets, but merely smiling and welcoming the guests. I stood in the VIP section (thus, getting an amazing view of the sports) and showed Jimmy & Mrs. Carter, the King and Queen of Sweden, Prince Albert, or the Gore daughters to their seats.

A really cool perk of my job was that because I was just 19 at the time, most people assumed that I was a volunteer (I wasn't...I actually got paid pretty decent money at the time), so I got every available handout -- free tickets, passes to club openings, food, collectible lapel pins (don't ask...it's an Olympic thing...but I once had my Olympic pin collection appraised and it was worth over $600...and I didn't buy a single one), random free stuff from the various bid cities (cities trying to get the 2004 Olympics...I'm one of the few people in the world with a San Juan 2004 t-shirt). You name it.

So yeah. The highlight of my working career came at the age of 19. Really cool at the time, but it just serves to make me feel worse about myself every other summer since, when I'm stuck in a crappy job with little summer vacay. LOL!

She works hard for the money

If you're anything like me, summers off...weren't. They were spent working, or as my dad liked to say, learning the value of a dollar. Considering that for the most part, I worked for my parents in their clothing store in Ocean City, MD, this shouldn't come as a shock.

Most of my memories of those working days are pretty good. Certain songs make me feel like I'm right back there, hanging bathing suits, straightening racks and watching for shoplifters. Ah, the good ole days.

One thing I really remember was how dumb the tourists were. Some of the most memorable questions were:

Where's the beach? Considering you could walk from the bay side of this barrier island to the ocean side in less than 10 minutes in most spots, this one could really be answered by walking outside and looking east.

How do you get to the 94th Mall? Hmm. I guess getting in your car and driving to 94th street would be too easy.

Do you live here? No, I'm the only 15-year-old legally allowed to vacation alone. But that got boring, so I decided to get a job.

Where's the boardwalk? You know that 2.5 mile strip of wood and concrete that runs from the inlet to 27th street, features two amusement parks, a pier, the life-saving museum and has all those kites flying over it? You haven't seen that? Then it's in Delaware.

Are these shorts on sale? No, we just fill the racks with display only clothes. In fact, this whole store is actually storage space for the summer clothes I'm not wearing. Thanks for stopping in, though.

I could go on, but you get the drift. Did you get asked dumb questions at your summer job?

Summertime...

Bon Jovi Summertime:

You make me feel something like summertime
Top down ain't nothing but time
Radio's on and you're by my side
Feels something like summertime
Like a first slow dance and a first long kiss
There ain't nothing baby better then this
It's like a beach blanket and a bottle of wine
It feels something like summertime
Sum-summer-summertime

I’m one of the few kids who didn’t have a summer job growing up. Actually, I wasn’t allowed to work—I played competitive sports for a living. Softball was my career of choice at the time. I didn’t get paid to play, but it sure was fun.

Sometimes I wonder if I missed out on anything by not having a job—even just one day a week. But our softball schedule was so busy I never knew when I would need time off. We traveled every week for tournaments and we had practice on the nights we weren’t on the road. I’m not kidding when I say softball was my job from April through August.

What I loved about not working, was the freedom I had during the day. I would spend most of the time at the swimming pool (except on game days, of course) and we’d always get at least a week’s vacation and go camping.

When I graduated high school, my softball career ended. And I was ready to give it up, honestly. It had been fun, but very demanding, and I was ready to feel grown up and get a job.

Boy, I wish I would’ve waited just one summer longer. I’ve been working ever since!

Here are some things I fondly recall about my jobless summers:

• Hanging out for 8 hours at the swimming pool, looking at all the hot guys but being too shy to do anything more than look. (FYI, one of those hot guys is now my kids’ pediatrician…)
• Hanging out at the baseball fields watching all the hot guys in between my games.
• Going to the lake. Skiing and showing off for all the hot guys.
• Hot guys.
• My first kiss was on the lake…with a hot guy of course.
  

Hm. I think summer for me was all about the hot guys—funny how things really haven’t changed all that much. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t have a job. I probably would’ve gotten fired for staring at all the hot guys and not doing my job.

Do you work after school or in the summer? Do you think it enhances or hinders your summer vacay?

No matter what you do during the summer, please remember to make the most out of it...preferably by drooling over a hot guy or two. (or girl. we don't discriminate here at Fictionistas!)