On a whim a few weeks ago, I filled out an online application for the corporate-owned bookstore in town. I was feeling a little mommy-claustrophobic, and have often thought that said bookstore would be a great place to work, if one did have to work, so I went for it before I could chicken out. I really loved getting all dressed up and interviewing with the two very cool managers there, and was proud and excited when they called to offer me the job. Actually, I was a little annoyed that it took the guy so long to call me back because, come on, we all know that you’re going to hire me. Who wouldn’t?

So here I am three (or something) weeks later, having finished my three days of paid training, 4 (count ‘em – four!) all day shifts, with a check for $100 burning a hole in my pocket, and I have some thoughts.

First and foremost: low wage work sucks. Yes, there are good things about the job: some of the people that I work with are very cool and I’m glad to have met them, I love encouraging and enabling book lust in the customers, and it’s surprisingly satisfying to help someone find just the thing that they were looking for. On the whole, however, my experience of working has been that I go to work excited and ready, but I come home dead tired, with a sore body, and frustrated.

I’ve been extremely spoiled in the fact that I haven’t had to work to bring in money for over 12 years now. I’ve been insulated from the realities of the low wage working world (LWWW – of which I was a card carrying member from the day I turned sixteen until 12 years ago), and getting back into it now, as a 36 year old woman, has been educational. I want to impress upon my kids that the LWWW is frustrating, a little bit demeaning, and very tiring. These are all problems, for sure, but the biggest problem is that there’s not any creativity required to work an entry level job. I don’t come home from work invigorated or excited. My job is to bring my hands and feet to work, and then head on home. I want to engage my mind. I know that the shelves need to be straightened, and the cd’s need to be put away again (haven’t you people ever heard of itunes?)but really, it just numbs the hell out of me. I told my husband this morning that I don’t want a job, I just want to be a blogger.

I know, I’m spoiled, I’m lucky. Maybe the worst part of this working woman experience so far has been the knowledge that I’m such a weenie!