My first Job circa 1965 My first job was bequeathed to me by my brother Andy. Andy worked for Mrs Wilberding, a friend and bridge-playing partner of my mothers, a stout, corpulent and pudgy older lady with a dry, austere manner who showed little compassion to children, especially lazy children - me. I was to arrive promptly at 5:00 PM and leave at 7:00 PM when the sun was setting. I was the dutiful yards keeper in charge of DANDELIONS. Yeap, that was my job - dandelions. Andy gave me the job of pulling out dandelions out of Mrs. Wilberdings yard for the whopping salary of .50 an hour - Andy went on to bigger and better things - working for my cousin Phyllis Seaborn and her husband Paul. Phyllis would always keep Andy working on one job or another, and Andy and the Seaborns became inextricably linked, and from this, they developed a lifelong friendship. Mrs. Wilberding lived off of Quito road in Los Gatos, an area which was home to several sprawling estates. She lived in a contemporary house with a lawn that extended over the horizon as far as the eye could see. The grass was always wet from the dampness of the daily morning watering. The shade from the trees left the lawn in a permanent state of moisture. That first day, I arrived promptly at 5 p.m.. I took the hand trowel given to me by Mrs. Wilberding. I looked at the vastness of the job that was awaiting me. What did I get myself into? I thought. I slowly knelt down and lay in a prone position in the wetness of the lawn. The verdure-covered ground was unpleasantly cold, damp and dank as I would uncomfortably try to shift positions from one spot to the next trying to find the best position to begin my chore. I pulled out the first dandelion and then the next. As time marched on forever slowly, the sun began to set, and I continued to laboriously extract those god-awful weeds out one by one. I would finish one patch and move on to the next. I would doze off every fifteen minutes or so, only to awake with my face covered with the dampness and mud of that wretched lawn. Where did these dandelions end? I stood up to look at the work I had done thus far. I meticulously examined every patch of dandelions I had extracted. I managed to dig out a handful of dandelions out of a sea of dandelions. I realized this was an exercise in futility. How would Mrs. Wilberding even know how much work I had done - well the reality was - she wouldnt. These dandelions were here to stay - a couple hours slogging away over the expanse of her grass and trees were not going to have any impact whatsoever on her dandelions. I mumbled under my breath a few choice words for my brother Andy vowing never again to accept one of his inane jobs. I continued my work hoping the clock would hit that magical 7:00 PM hour to end the torture. I looked at my watch every five minutes despairing as I could hear the click click of my wristwatch as it reached 6:30, then 6:35, 6:40 and finally after an eternity had elapsed, it hit that magical number 7. I then stood up - only to feel the dampness and mud of the lawn clinging to every fiber of my being. I looked down and noticed my pants were covered with blotches of grass stains forever discoloring them, something about which I knew my parents would not be too enthused. Aw, but, in the end, Mrs. Wilberding, would hand me that crisp one dollar bill in my hand, and I would thank her with a smile albeit somewhat sardonically, and trek back home in the crisp chill of the breeze and semi-darkness of the evening.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Nov 2014 23:23:40 +0000