I am now about two weeks into my second job. I am working part-time at one of the celebrated institutions here in my hometown, in the gift shop, to both learn about how the business operates “from the inside” and – to be honest – to make some extra “scratch.”
So far, I love it. My new boss is great, my fellow employees are diverse, colorful and fun and working with the public at an institution is oddly rewarding; I mean, the gratitude you see on someone’s face when you tell them where the restrooms are? Priceless.
It has been years – YEARS – since I’ve held an “hourly” job. Frankly, I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to do it but, today? I knew it was going to be OK. See, today this happened:
Uh huh, that’s correct – I worked my entire shift with my shirt “untucked.” We are issued uniform shirts – cute, embroidered-logo polo shorts that we pair with “our own khaki pants and comfortable shoes” that is the uniform for the gift store. During my first two weeks, I dutifully “tucked” my shirt in every day, enduring the tugging and pulling of a shirt trapped by a belt, sometimes roasting in the luxurious “60/40 cotton/poly blend” that is the fabric of the shirt. I watched daily as female store associates sometimes wore the shirts, sometimes not (ladies are allowed “appropriate business casual attire while at work”) and the gents I worked with – all younger then me – never tucked their shirts in. I mean – in their/my defense – the polo does have a square bottom hem, suggesting it is to be worn out. So today was my day to go “untucked.” I figured if anyone called me on it, I would bluff and flubber around and go tuck the shirt in, right? No one said anything. I worked all day in breezy, casual comfort, my shirt hem skimming below my middle-aged paunch…
It has begun. Today, untucked shirt. I mean, what’s next? Can “forgetting to clock out for lunch” be very far behind? My descent into rebellious hourly employee-ness has begun… 😉