Guest Post: Jody Collins, “My First Job”

Jody Collins is guest posting today, on this Labor Day. She is giving her memories on her first job. Jody blogs at Three Way Light. She’s a retired teacher and married for 39 years, so she has scads of experience in wisdom.

I was born and raised in Southern California, and for many years lived within fireworks-watching-distance of Disneyland.The summer I was 15-going-on-16, (the oldest of 5 children), my mother became a single parent. It was 1968; she was barely making ends meet. Way Back Then many of my friends were working at Disneyland or cleaning the rooms in the myriad of hotels surrounding Walt Disney’s magical place.

Since I didn’t have quite the perfect American face, I never measured up to Magic Kingdom standards. But working as a maid? I could do that.Since I obviously couldn’t drive and my mother was not available to take me, I instead rode my bike to work. It was about 5 miles or so up busy Harbor Boulevard to the vicinity of Hotel Mile. Early each morning I arrived at my job ready to spray, clean, fluff and vacuum.

At the time it never occurred to me to worry about the stigma of being a maid. I was thrilled with the found treasures Disneyland-goers would leave behind–unopened rainbow-colored lollipops, light-up necklaces and bracelets, brightly colored beach towels. No one said anything as we discreetly lifted them from the premises–it was all in a days’ work.

Frankly, I remember the lollipops–and the exploding bottle of champagne in the much too hot room–ka-boom!—more than I remember my co-workers. When I close my eyes and picture them, I realize they were all Hispanic. (Okay, I realize that sounds like, “Yay, me, I’m so tolerant of other cultures,” but please stay with me.)

I have grown up around Hispanic people all my life—in Southern California, in Central California when I married, and now here in the Pacific Northwest. I am comfortable conversing in Spanish and don’t give it a second thought to acknowledging and including Hispanics wherever I am. It is a real joy to see them smile, even as I butcher their language.

These are people who know the honor of hard work and meeting others’ needs.
Light bulb moment: Serving is a godly business. It requires a humble attitude and character that does not shirk at the disciplines required of labor.

It takes an “I can be second” frame of mind to go about the job of taking care of people without them actually seeing you.

When I recently returned to Orange County for a family visit and vacation I was soundly reminded of this.

While scores of people around me ignored those waiting on them hand and foot, replacing towels, cleaning up their spills, serving their food, my sister–who was a career waitress into her 50’s-always engaged them in conversation. (In proper Spanish. Their faces lit up when she did so.)

She pointed out to me what a $3.00 tip means when you leave dishes out in your bungalow that you’d like put away.

She showed me what it’s like to acknowledge these kind servants, offer a smile, say hello, ask about their day.

Say, “I see you.”

I started thinking about being a maid and actually what a privilege it was all those years ago.
I’m grateful to a mother who let me/encouraged me to attempt such a job and had no second thoughts about it being ‘beneath me.’

I also see now that this daily grind—at three different hotels-was a stepping stone showing me the value of hard work and serving.

One can take pride in an occupation that makes a space beautiful and clean, helping people feel loved and cared for.

And it is a remarkable thing to opt for invisibility by serving.

I’m thankful I had that chance—it’s made me part of who I am today.