Some of the best life lessons I learned when I was younger didn’t come from what I learned in school or a book. Instead, they came from “real-life experiences.” For me, that came in the form of the random jobs I’ve held since my teenage years. As I discovered from growing up in suburbia, smaller towns aren’t exactly booming metropolises for employment. Wappingers Falls, New York—right next door to Poughkeepsie, the more famous town for joke punchlines—certainly wasn’t. When it came to finding a temporary summer job as a college student, there were even slimmer pickings.
The summer after my freshman year of college, I came face-to-face with the limitations of finding a decent part-time job. Having secured a plum internship with a local Congressman (I’ll save the details of that interesting experience for a later blog—I promise!), I was left with only two full days a week, plus afternoons and evenings, to find paid employment. Good luck finding a decent job with that schedule.
I quickly realized that not many places wanted to hire a seasonal worker with limited availability, not to mention a somewhat meager resume. Two weeks into my three-month vacation, I began to feel desperate. I realized that I’d have to lower my standards if I wanted to make any money that summer. And so, I took a job that I thought was beneath me. But as I later learned, it turned out to be the best job I ever had. Which brings me to the life lesson I learned: strength can come from having humility. Learning to value and appreciate people for who they are, wherever they are in life, is an immeasurable gift…and one that can reap positive rewards.
Here’s my story… 
Cents and sensibility
After striking out with all the jobs I’d applied for from the help wanted ads, my job search led me back to the Poughkeepsie Galleria Mall. As you may recall from a previous blog, I hadn’t had the greatest luck with mall jobs. But I was in desperate need of paid employment to supplement my modest allowance.
Having lapped the mall walking group several times as I scoured for work, I spied a “summer help wanted” sign at Hoyts Galleria Cinemas.
I’d always loved the movies. Probably more than the average teenager, given my appreciation of a good story. But working at the movie theater? Umm, no thanks.
That’s the ticket
In my mind, the people who worked at the movie theater were beneath me. But desperate times call for desperate measures, so I applied for the job. A couple of days later, the manager called to schedule an interview. The interview for a part-time job in concession sales was a piece of cake. (Though the job actually entailed selling popcorn, soda, and other junk food. Not cake.) Unlike the struggles I’d had at The Limited Too with upselling socks and providing friendly customer service, concession items sold themselves. I confidently told the manager I’d be able to perform the job responsibilities and was ready, willing, and able to work. I hoped my enthusiasm and embellished sales experience outweighed my scheduling limitations. Lo and behold, I got the job.
Aaaaaand action.
The manager then gave me my uniform: a polyester red vest and black bow tie. She told me to wear my own white shirt and black pants—no jeans. Despite the hideous red vest and bow tie, I guess Hoyts Galleria Cinemas had high standards for their employees’ appearances.
You butter believe it
Even though I was slightly overqualified to work at the movie theater, I was quite nervous on my first day of work. What if I couldn’t figure out the register? What if I messed up the popcorn? As I learned from T, the woman who would train me, the job wasn’t all that hard. I vaguely recognized T from high school, but we hadn’t been in any classes together. T was someone who, before that cinematic summer job, I’d snootily describe as “not academic.” Unlike me, Miss College Student, T didn’t seem to obsess over her future professional career goals like I did. Turns out I was wrong about T and her work ethic.
I trailed behind T as she spouted out instructions that I promptly forgot. All I heard was that I’d be making popcorn and working one of the concession registers closer to the theaters; when I got more experience, I’d rotate into the main concession stand. Given my distaste for food services and math, I’d have to suck it up. This was a paying job with a flexible schedule, so I really shouldn’t complain.
As I quickly learned, T was kind and patient. She walked me through how to make the popcorn (trust me, you don’t want to know) and how to use the cash register. While I waited for the register to tell me how much change to give, T was able to calculate the amount in her head. She was lightning fast. So much so that she might’ve been better at math than some of those nerdy kids in the Advanced Math classes.
When concessions were slow, T and I would chat. Turns out, T was incredibly sweet and a hard worker. She helped out her family with the money she’d earned from her various jobs (the movie theater was only one of them). One of the first big lessons I’d learned from my cinematic summer job was about not judging people. It certainly wasn’t how to make the perfect batch of movie theater popcorn, though I did learn how to make atomic yellow popcorn with a few extra oil squirts.
While I never interacted with T during our time together in high school, as I learned from my cinematic summer job, she probably would’ve been a good friend to have.
Kicking butts and not taking names
Over the next few days, I met other fascinating people with whom I normally wouldn’t have crossed paths. J, another girl coincidentally from my high school—and also one whom I didn’t associate with—turned out to have a wickedly funny sense of humor. J’s quick wit and eye for detail made her one of the favorites to work concessions with. I probably did more laughing than I did working when I was with J.
I did feel a little guilty about my new friendship with J, though. Back in high school, I had written J off because she hung out with the “burnouts.” Those were the kids who went to the school smoking lounge during free periods. Yes, kids could go to the smoking lounge in my high school. Times sure were different in the late 1980s and 90s.
I realize now that, even though the burnouts may have put their health at risk, they weren’t necessarily “bad” kids. I probably would’ve had some good laughs with J and her friends—though I’d do it without the cigarettes. Thanks to my cinematic summer job, the second lesson I learned was that nice people can be found in all walks of life.
And I haven’t even told you about P. Cue the flourish of trumpets.
Striking a chord
P was a handsome, bleach-blonde-haired boy who was a year older than I. He went to a college on Long Island and was studying music. P’s claim to fame was that he took a music seminar class with pop legend Billy Joel, and Billy told P that his work was good. As a fellow pianist who revered Billy Joel, I was incredibly impressed by this endorsement.
P and I had an instant connection. Being a girl, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t P’s type. That detail wasn’t something P and I ever spoke about, though it certainly made the boundaries of our growing friendship quite clear. Within a week of our meeting, P and I soon spent much of our free time together both inside and outside of work.
I’d like to think our close friendship made us the envy of the “concessions group.” In retrospect, I’m pretty sure no one cared. Unlike my Binghamton University friends, who spoke about their pre-law, pre-med, or business school plans, P and I talked about music. We made mixtapes for each other (a long-lost art form in this modern electronic-everything age). We imagined our futures and how they’d have some connection to the arts. P’s, of course, would be music; mine would be something involving writing. Well, how about that for prognostication?
Sadly, after that cinematic summer job, P and I drifted apart. But during the three carefree months we were together, we sure had plenty of fun.
Movie-ing and shaking
I had mixed feelings when my cinematic summer job came to an end. By August, except for the horror movie, I’d already seen every one of the movies being shown for free (one of the perks of working in a movie theater). Also, my white shirt and pants reeked of stale popcorn. So much so that when I put them in the donation pile, my mom had to move the clothing bag into the garage.
But as cliché as it sounds, I never forgot about the people that I met and the unlikely friends that I’d made at Hoyts Galleria Cinemas. I realized that regardless of your background, you can almost always find some connection with others.
Connections, as it turns out, are essential elements for living a longer, healthier, and happier life. And my cinematic summer job was one of the happiest times I can recall from my adolescence.
While I initially thought that working in a movie theater was beneath me, as it turned out, the experience ended up elevating me.
…Though I will admit that after that summer, I could never eat popcorn again.
Do you recall any childhood memories that had a strong impact on you later in life? Please share your stories with me in the comments section.
