Originally published in print, September 2021.
With Summer in the rear-view mirror, we asked writers to reflect on their experiences of working over the summer. Their responses document the joys of working with unsatisfied customers and bratty kids, the perpetual hope of finding your soulmate while on the job, and the remarkable motivation of an empty bank account to keep you clocking in each morning. From swimming, to waitressing, to the wonderful world of retail, their diverse experiences offer unique insight on the many joys and sorrows of a summer job.
Jack Gonzalez, Swim Coach
Working as a swim coach is a job that pays in satisfaction – although the salary is pretty good as well. Whether it’s getting the kinks out of somebody’s stroke in a private lesson, or seeing your team win a meet after daily practices, it feels great to see all of your hard work pay off in the pool. Some parts of the job, however, completely sucked. Getting up early to coach a swim practice for people who would rather sit on the edge of the pool and complain for an hour than get into the freezing cold water, dealing with parents who want to know why their bratty kids aren’t dropping time, and a coach who is way too comfortable with public screaming matches with the lifeguards sometimes felt like hell. But in general, the job was nice. This job came at the end of my swimming career: I started swimming competitively when I was eight years old – a bit late for my swimming-obsessed area – and instantly picked up a liking for the sport, swimming all year round since, captaining my high school team, and coaching for five years. In a way, it really felt like I was going full circle. I was really happy to do it this year, but also really happy to stop. There were various warning signs peppered about that I was getting too old for the job (like not being able to tell the difference between a ten year old and a fifteen year old, and having to explain to every single parent why I decided to go to school in Ireland) but having one last go at this in a semi-normal year seemed the most fitting way to go. They even made a special rule for us nineteen year olds who missed last year to have a go at our final year, so that really put the icing on the cake. I really want to see if I can get a proper job next summer, maybe something that has to do with my degree, but it’s unlikely to pay as well as a swim coach – man did I make a lot of money this year.
Lisa Bussi, Waitress
As part of an initiative to lose my work experience virginity and make my parents proud, I waitressed in a bar/restaurant located in the centre of Brussels this summer.
Not knowing what I was getting myself into is to put it mildly. I thought working a summer job would be something quirky, something to develop character like in a coming-of-age movie; perhaps I would fall in love with a boy, or make enough money to travel the world.Minimum wage and a miserably stale love life seemed to be the reality of the situation, however.
Amongst several moments, like dropping a glass on a customer’s head, speed walking faster than a suburban mom on a time limit or being sexually harassed by drunk 30-year-old men with receding hairlines, the one that struck me the most was getting yelled at by customers. Despite this becoming a regular occurrence, each time it happened I seemed to regress by five years, feeling as though they were my parents screaming at me for staying up too late. Sometimes I would simply go in the backroom and cry quietly, accepting defeat, other times however, I would stick my nose up and stomp away. I think they were surprised not to see me slam my bedroom door and play loud grunge music. Thankfully the job only lasted a month and as soon as I was done, I took my paycheck and walked away with the same fervour I had initially come in with.
Ella McCormack, Centra
The concept of an “ah-ha” moment is generally understood by the masses. This split-second defined the careers of many academics, which later led them to garner the attention of the greater world and achieve fame and fortune. To use this example in action, some man who derived his success from many mathematical and scientific “ah-ha” moments said, “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction”. Following this rule, there should also be an inverse to an “ah-ha” moment: a feeling I like to describe as an “oh-no” moment.
One particular “oh-no” moment that defined me occurred in the month of May. Picture this: I’m strolling down the aisle of Tesco, basket in hand. Standing in front of me was most students’ go-to section of many shops, the one essential part of their grocery excursion, the holy grail of shopping – the heavenly off-license. Naturally I averted my gaze from Grey Goose, a normal knee-jerk reaction from anybody living on a budget. To be more specific, the frightening reality of a student budget, that consisted of first communion savings and an accumulation of Credit Union funds collected in primary school. I eventually stumbled upon the only thing my eyes were searching for: the twelve euro bottle of Nikita vodka. My heart sank, however, as I realised that my dwindling bank account would now no longer cover the cost of this seemingly cheap spirit. An “oh-no” moment at its finest. I then realised something, something that would alter my life more than a2+b2=c2, the realisation – I have to start searching for a summer job.
With absolutely no retail experience under my belt, I was hired in my local Centra soon after finishing first year, which was a questionable and probably regrettable move on my boss’ behalf. Being thrown into the world of scratch cards, lotto tickets, and 99s was a jump more intimidating than starting college and moving away from home. Every weekend and most weekdays I observed the regulars of the town do their daily and often overpriced shop, predicting what comments they’d make on “great silage weather,” or questioning why their chicken fillet roll was five euro fifty.
Each Sunday I’d stand behind the till at eight o’clock in the morning, listening to the trad hour on Today FM before Alison Curtis would play a remix of various versions of “Sweet Melody” by Little Mix for three hours straight. Before you ask, yes there are that many variations of that song and yes, it’s as unbearable as it sounds. If this Sunday happened to be a sunny one, the litany of 99s and milkshake requests began from eleven. As I’d turn to hand them their pitiful ice cream, I could see the disappointment quickly register on their faces, and rightly so. If you were unlucky enough to get an ice cream pulled by me, you would receive a cone with an ice cream so lopsided and small that it should’ve been free.
Still, I appreciated every minute of experience I received from my retail employment. I witnessed the farmers with mucky hands and an even dirtier wad of twenty fifty euro notes all crumpled together that they’d pull from their pockets, all to pay for a Telly Bingo and two €1 All Cash scratch cards. Familiarity sprung in my mind when I saw the lads heading out to the local pub on a Saturday night, buying a pack of Benson & Hedges between three as, “sure we have a county game tomorrow, it doesn’t count if we share them.” It was truly an experience I will never forget, and one that even Sir Newton couldn’t draw from.
When all was said and done, my “oh-no” moment turned into temporary success as I now have enough funds to survive the first two weeks of moving to Dublin. Oh the joys of minimum wage in a small town, a rate which is likely illegal. After two (maybe three, if you count pocket money from Nana) weeks of bliss, then it’ll be onto the next retail job, where it can all start again.
