Yes it would have been my first job, in a fabric shop, whilst a teenager. I was really creative as a child and started making my own things while I was still tiny. I loved that fabric shop and used to save up my pocket money to buy sequins and iron on motifs and sparkly fabric. I was really excited to see a job going there during school holidays for a Saturday and holiday cover girl. I wanted a chance to work in what was essentially my Aladdin's Cave.
When I showed up, the owner/manager seemed like a chauvinist...he was middle aged, obese, greasy hair, no people skills, and seemed to use the job to hire quiet, mousy, subserviant women who he could bully and have power over. I got the sense he enjoyed punishing women. Horrible sneery way he had of talking down to them and making them feel stupid. He did it in front of me
as he showed me round the shop, like a warning.
I didn't have an interview per se. He didn't ask to see exam results or for references or gave me any questions to answer. He just looked me up and down very slowly, smirked and told me I could start on Monday, wouldn't be allowed to use a calculator (despite it being the 2000s, he was too cheap to invest in a proper till and everything had to be added up by hand!) and that he'd be furious if I forgot and used the customer entrance. I think I only got the job because I was very young with a sweet face and big boobs. The other staff couldn't look me in the eye except for a one or two who looked a bit sorry for me and nervous.
I looked at the cowed, unhappy women twice my age working there and thought, sod this, he can stuff his job, I don't want to end up like those bullied women. And he can F off the way he looked at my boobs. As if I'd be interested in an old creep. The arrogance of youth! My family weren't too happy with me for turning down a job. Creepy men were par for the course apparently and as long as I had my wits about me and was never alone with him I would have been fine, so they said 🙄.
Two months later my teacher told me he was pretty impressed by me and offered me a self employed position in his tutoring centre with him taking a tiny fee to cover room hire. I was running my own tutoring business whilst still a teenager throughout studying at uni, making really great money for a student. Stuffing the job at the fabric shop and the creepy bully of an owner was a good move.
I often wonder what happened to that sassy little teenager that I once was. Where did that confidence go?