Tag Archives: working

How I First Learned About Money

money, working, first jobs, allowance, chores, babysitting

Creative Commons by cupwire.ca

CBC Radio One was talking about allowances today and whether they’re good or bad, or should be allowed. As a child, I was one of four to a working class family. We didn’t have a ton of money, or at least that was the way it always came across. I wasn’t given money that I can remember and maybe as a small child I was, so that I could learn how to spend it and count it out. Or maybe I learned about it in grade school. I actually can’t remember any specific lessons about money.

But…by the time I was six or seven I had my first job. It wasn’t a paper route but it was selling Regal Cards, a mail order company for Christmas and birthday cards, door to door. They’re still going strong Probably the cuteness of being a little child helped me sell those cards but I was working early on. My mother didn’t believe in letting us shirk any duties and she’d grown up a Depression Era child so making your own way was part of the game. We may have been lower middle class but my siblings and I were richer in goods than my mother had been at that age.

After Regal Cards, came babysiting, when I was old enough. I babysat for the people across the street and for a while had a job babysitting on Saturdays for a woman who worked. A full day of entertaining a two-year-old who wouldn’t sleep if the didn’t have his bottle (and threw it over the balcony one day) was more than I could take and I eventually quit. But the fact is I was familiar with working and being paid for it probably since I was seven. I opened a savings account between the ages of 12-14, where my mother had to come with me because they weren’t used to kids with bank accounts at that age. Now, every kid can get a bank account. I had a chequing account just a few years later.

In between all this I asked my mother, probably around the age of 13 or 14 if I could receive an allowance. By this time my two older siblings were out of the house and it was just my brother and me. We already had chores to do, such as vacuuming, mowing lawns, shoveling walks, washing dishes so it’s not like the bribe of money made us do the chores. The threat of grounding or being spanked made us do the chores. However, my mother had started working so she was less diligent about such things. But when I asked for that allowance I was pretty much told it wouldn’t be fair to give it to one and not the other, and because my brother never did his chores I was punished for his chaos.

By the time I was sixteen I was working in a movie theater, my first real job with a regular paycheck. I had that job for a

ju jube, candy, working, movies, entertainment, first jobs

Ju Jubes from charlieschocolatefactory.ca

couple of years, until art college. It was a great job for a teenager. We could sneak in to watch some shows at the slow time. My girlfriend also worked there with me and we’d pick out the choicest popcorn to eat. Sometimes we’d order a pizza slice or two from Stromboli’s next door and dip the thick puffy crusts in some butter we had poured off. We’d count the ju-jube bags and buy the ones with the most red or black ones and we’d buy the Twizzler bags that had the highest count. Something only teenagers could get away with.

I was definitely buying most of my own clothes by the time I was 16, with little if no cash from my mother. So I learned the value of money from a very young age and I learned how to save. After all, I put myself through college, no savings from relatives. But back in those early days, yeah, an allowance would have been nice.

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Innocence on the Job

I’ve worked a variety of jobs over the years; some that people would never expect if they didn’t know my past. I started young, very young, selling Regal Christmas cards from door to door. Somehow my mother got me started on it and I guess in the shyness of my youth, this did not bother me. I made some spending money and I think I was about nine or ten when I started this entrepreneurship. Now, I wouldn’t have the guts to bang on people’s doors and bother them. But as a little innocent with my cute cherubic face I could sell the cards and people weren’t suspicious of a child.

Innocence probably accompanied me through most of my jobs as a teen and young adult. When I was in college I had a job one summer surveying city lots for construction. I had worked in a store before that but the money was better surveying. I didn’t know how to survey but only one person on the team needs to know how to use the instrument.

The surveying teams were often two or three people; one (the actual surveyor) would set the instrument. Another would possibly hold the meter stick and another, the plumb bob, the weighted piece that gives a perpendicular line to the earth’s surface, important for accurate readings on uneven terrain. We were a team of three, consisting of the surveyor, me and another guy who was large, sweaty, unkempt and smelly. The three of us would ride around in the cab of the truck from lot to lot, me and the surveyor often saying disparaging things to the guy who never seemed to bathe.

I also was the more intelligent of the two workers and overtime the surveyor was teaching me how to read the equipment. The other guy wasn’t interested. This helped the day go faster because I was doing more than just holding a giant ruler. And there wasn’t a lot else to do when in a big flat space full of dirt.

It was summer in Calgary, hot and sunny, and dusty from all the grading trucks in the empty lots. So there were other workers there from those grading the land, to any operators of the heavy machinery and those pouring foundations for homes. I often worked with my hair braided, to keep it out of my face, and wearing this white, stretchy and therefore form-fitting halter top. With no bra of course. I actually had no clue that perhaps this got me more attention than I needed, often being the only woman on the site.

Yet I don’t really remember guys coming on to me, wolf-whistling or ogling me. Perhaps they were but if so they were surreptitious about it. However, I tend to think that it was because most of them were barely above the bar that would have them rated as intelligent. I actually don’t remember much about this job, except for the lunch hours. The lunch truck would come around and blare its horn. Everyone gathered there to eat, even if they brought their own food. Often they’d buy something else; a milk or juice, chocolate bar, or sandwich. The fodder was fairly pedestrian and there was little that resembled a vegetable that these guys probably wouldn’t have eaten anyways.

But the most astounding thing was to watch these construction workers eat, which makes me think that most of them had to be single. They shoveled, literally shoveled food into their mouths, chewing as pieces fell out. Others chewed open mouth and ate like ravenous hyenas. And others drank their milk or juice, pouring it into their mouths so that it spilled out and across their faces or down the corners over their chin and onto their shirts. In essence they ate like pigs.

Me sitting there in my white halter top, naively unaware that I was the only woman on site, gaped and was astounded at the animal ferocity of the men. These guys were barely human. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if I’d been working on my own without a team. The other helper guy fit into the piggy category and was pretty stupid but the surveyor was a decent guy, educated and with manners. I think in a way that he probably was a shield to the other men. That and the fact that we were usually away from the construction crews, working where it was devoid of nearly inhuman men.

Still, I think back to that job and shake my head at what I wore, and I’m thankful that for all the animalness of the men in eating, they remained decent enough to leave me alone.

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Workers Compensation: A Fallacy

There are probably many people reading this who know someone or have themselves experienced a workplace injury and WCB’s attitude toward compensating the worker. In fact, the Workers Compensation Board changed their name to WorkSafe BC, to reflect the greater scope of their reach and because they’re known for not compensating workers, or cutting compensation off arbitrarily.

This could all be hearsay but I do have direct experience. I have had to file twice in my life. The first time was for a repetitive stress injury to the soft tissue of my hand (my fingers and hand swelled) due to writing so much in quintuplicate for the movie industry (with one period that consisted of about 30 hours straight). In this first case, WCB did cover treatments but only until they thought I should be better. A known fact about the human body is that people heal at different rates and many other factors come into play. So I had to somehow manage to get better, without affording the therapy while still working.

The second time was perhaps harder to pinpoint but indicates the arbitrary decision making of case workers. I was working inside underneath three air conditioner vents. I have a couple of conditions, the major one being chronic myofascial pain syndrome (MFS). It is similar to fibromyalgia but more treatable. I can be fine for a long time and then experience a relapse brought on by certain conditions. Then I will proceed into a chronic pain cycle, which can take years to get hrough. I can function but am often in pain all the time.

Myofascial pain can be triggered by various events, some of which are: stress, cold, injury. This means, at the onset a person can try to work through the pain with exercise, which can backfire, causing more trigger point cascades. A trigger point is an area on the body that when pressed refers pain to other areas. People with myofascial pain and fibromyalgia have specific spots on their bodies which will be major trigger points. Each person may not demonstrate pain in all of them but may in most of them. A trigger point is often a hard knot. I’m not a medical expert but from what I’ve read it involves muscle tissue and fascia (the thin membrane that covers muscles [like you see on chicken]). A trigger point cascade can occur where one trigger point starts a progression of spasms and knotting that create other trigger points.

At my worst, I was trying to work out and increased the problem unknowingly. I had trigger point cascades down my arms and back, to the point where I could barely hold a fork or chew. That was an extreme episode that I don’t wish to visit again. Overall, my muscles will spasm and knot up and will forget how to release. I had ten years of chronic pain before the combination of the right muscle relaxant (many painkillers and analgesics don’t always work on this type of pain), a massage therapist who understood how to work with trigger points, and about four months of very warm weather which took me out of the chronic stage.

As I’ve mentioned, stress, injury or cold can trigger myofascial pain. Other conditions can be associated with it, such as Reynaud’s syndrome. Reynaud’s is also called red, white and blue because it will be brought on by cold and the vessels in the extremities (fingers and toes) will constrict, causing the limbs to go from red to white to blue as the blood flow is suppressed. People with this condition will experience sharp, knifelike pain and numbness. I have found, when I experience Reynauds, that the only way to bring circulation back to the extremities is to bring up my core temperature.

I have given these two examples here to wind back to workers compensation. The three air conditioner vents that I was sitting under blew a lot of cold air onto my back. I’m more susceptible to cold, but was the only person in my area who was under three vents (no one was under more than one). Because the muscles tightened up, when I moved suddenly, sitting at my desk, I threw out my back. I was a contract worker so I couldn’t really take time off but I filed a claim. I went to the chiropractor a couple of times but couldn’t afford more than that.

Recognizing that this could be another chronic pain onset, I wanted WCB to cover therapy for a couple of weeks. In all, if I had had treatment right away I could have put off the chronic pain. It would have taken probably a month at most, consisting of chiropractic to adjust my back, and massage to keep the muscles from tightening up and pulling my back out again (believe me, I live with this often, muscles pulling my ribs out while I sleep).

My case worker was on holidays so I talked to someone else first. When the case worker came back, he didn’t even talk to me but denied the claim straight out. I wrote back citing the specialist that had originally diagnosed me. I was willing to be examined, get letters from the specialists about the condition and other documentation if needed. I said that the cold of the air conditioning was the problem and the case worker wrote back and said that cold never hurt anyone. Never. Cold.

I wonder what those people feel who suffer frostbite and hypothermia and die of exposure? One of the best ways to get through myofascial pain is to apply heat, along with therapy. This case worker didn’t consult any medical expert but made his own uninformed arbitrary decision. I would have had to go to a new level to fight this, to get the therapy that was now some time from the onset of the injury. And what else causes myofascial pain? Stress. Having already taken ICBC (our provincial car insurance company) to small claims court for not covering the therapy costs of the injury that originally began my relationship with myofascial pain, I knew how stressful that process was (I won, BTW). I didn’t do it and have spent several years getting out of another bout of chronic pain. And of course all the subsequent visits to my doctor for muscle relaxants (trying to find some that work), the few visits to the therapists, and days I take off work when the pain is too much, or for doctor appointments puts more strain on our health care and system. In the long run, it costs way more than what the initial treatments would have been.

This is just one example of how workers compensation is a fallacy. I have heard far worse stories. And I have only touched the tip of the iceberg on what myofascial pain is all about. It is a more accepted condition these days, very hard to diagnose and many doctors pooh pooh it still.  Wikipedia has a very short entry. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myofascial_pain_syndrome  And should you have a workplace injury that brings on this condition, you can expect workers compensation to not compensate, to not help you get better, and like many other injured workers, leave you out in the cold.

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