what time is it? Time to get a summer job

By Molly Richards (she/her)

Burnout is no joke, so the holidays are a blessing. That’s what I always thought. Turns out summer is less like the High School Musical 2 tune What Time Is It, and more like the High School Musical 2 tune Work This Out. Or, if you prefer a bit of Dolly, I’m no Jolene but I have been Workin’ 9 to 5

I wouldn’t call the three months out of the student rat race all that productive. During the semester, I longed for time away from deadlines and assignments. I had pipe dreams for some shelved projects. To get that looming portfolio started ahead of the game. To just START prepping for next semester. How dull – yes, I know. Don’t you worry, I did none of it. Instead, like many of you, I roped myself into a summer job. We’ve been there. StudyLink has dried up and you must make a choice; find a job, or watch that bank balance nosedive.

I’ve done the usual, hospo/retail. Be kind to hospo workers! One summer I got myself into a bar where I became a serial glass juggler. Customers don’t like their margarita express delivered to their lap. Not my finest moment.

Another summer I was a barista. This might upset my coffee enthusiast friends out there – but excuse me, you want me to make what? I had become a judgmental barista, and I’m so sorry. But Bullet Proof coffee? Why? This is what I imagine the tagline for Bullet Proof Coffee would go . . . Bullet Proof Coffee: have ever wanted to take a shot of burnt toast at 6.30am and traumatise your barista? Well, we’ve got the coffee for you! It’s a black coffee with butter and if you like this can you please tell me why.

Back to the matter. I was a dental assistant for a total of five hours. Technically it was a trial and unsurprisingly I didn’t get the job. Let’s face it, I’m not cut out for scrubs; I had no idea what I was doing.

I’ve made ice cream all summer. Let me tell you the wave of panic that sets in when you hand someone their ice cream and it goes to fall. I can’t handle that stress. I thought people held their ice creams at a 45° angle just to test my nerve.

I suppose we’ve all been there, it’s no fun being the lame friend with the summer job. Sorry guys I can’t come to that super cool festival, I have to work. If you are dragging yourself through that summer job, making coffees, serving tables, making ice cream, doing dentist stuff, remember it’s just a summer job. It’s a means to an end— and not to sound like my parents but it builds character. Also, know that it gets worse. Or rather, it could be worse. You could be like me, a fourth year, where my next summer job isn’t a summer job, it’s a job or it’s unemployment.