Author

Tara Collum

Browsing

One of the best jobs I ever had

 

Dress for the job you want, not the job you have can be laughably out of step with reality for those who wear a uniform to work. Another old adage that seems eyeroll-worthy is work hard and have a good attitude at whatever job you can get.

If you must work a terrible job that you feel is beneath you, isn’t a heavy chip on your shoulder proof you’re not a failure? Doesn’t commiserating about the misery of your shared hell with co-workers prove it’s only temporary?

We are living in a brave new world when it comes to job availability and opportunities, not only much different than what our parents faced, but even compared to the experience of older siblings.

The work hours aren’t always traditional, the benefits don’t always exist. Tantalizing dreams of a side-hustle taking off, and the promise of virtual workspaces giving us the independence to travel the world are the reward for being unable to afford a mortgage like previous generations.

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to teach a woman the first formal English classes she had ever taken. She came to Canada for freedom as a Vietnamese boat refugee, and my classes were her first time to learn after decades of factory work. I was proud to teach her basic grammar skills, and see her writing, reading, and speaking improve so dramatically in a few months, and the pride she took in her hard work.

However, I wasn’t really suited for teaching. I needed a change, and wanted to try something new. I didn’t put any attachments or expectations on outcomes. I told myself that I would immediately move on when the time came.

The job I took was some called brand ambassador or hawker, I prefer newsie. I took a job handing out newspapers in front of the subway. I had had articles published in a paper before, and tried not to think of it as a downward step. One of the first surprises about the job is, that it actually paid the same as my other job teaching English as a Second Language.

I got up before the sun rose, put on my green apron, and did my best. A younger me would have hid behind sunglasses or scowled. I said good morning to every person who passed by, and was determined to hand out my quota of bundles.

On my first morning, I wondered what my co-workers would be like. I worked with a group, I stood in the middle of three fellow newsies. They were approachable and funny. Some were actors who appreciated the flexible schedule. Everyone had multiple creative projects, bands, and auditions.

There were people who walked by or got off the bus that I looked forward to chatting with every morning whether they took a paper or not. I learned I had a nice smile.

I was outside in winter in temperatures so frigid my hair froze, but I also got to marvel at some of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen.

When the job eventually ended, I don’t think the job of handing out a newspaper even exists anymore, I knew more about my preferences. I could be an early riser, and I liked being a teamplayer.

We can embrace the future or fight it. A lifelong career at the same workplace may no longer be possible, but it isn’t necessarily a punishment. It is practical to be open-minded. Instead of justifying all the reasons why something isn’t the right fit for you, or how a job doesn’t match your career plan, just gather experience without judgement, and be open to what can happen.

The Roseanne reboot cancellation

The sitcom Roseanne was never perfect. The original series ran out of steam and plummeted in the ratings, barely cracking the top 20, and it fizzled out all together after a slightly funny, but mostly confusing and maligned journey of the Connor’s antics after winning the lottery, and ended with a dramatic monologue by Roseanne, the gut punch that Dan Connor had died of a heart attack, and a ponderous TE Lawrence quote.

The Roseanne show always meant a lot to me. Darlene Connor is one of the most authentic and real depictions of a teenager ever. One of the benefits of a sitcom is that the actors play true to their real age, unlike dramas where the “teens” are in their twenties. Darlene explored atheism, her writing, went through a major depression that helped me with my own, and blossomed in her relationship with David. This romance wasn’t something that happened offscreen but was built up in front of the viewer’s eyes from the first kiss to an eventual wedding.

Despite the drama of the whiplash recasting of Becky, and the return and departure again of the original actress, the oldest daughter eloped as a teen after lashing out at Dan for ruining her life by failing to make a go of his beloved bike shop. Seeing Becky run off to get married was one of the most shocking things I’d ever seen on TV.

So being a mega fan, who has a complete box set that survived a DVD purge, it felt like a miracle to have new episodes of the show. But I approached the new season with cautious optimism. Roseanne doesn’t have a good track record. (Does anyone remember her attempt at a talk show? It had a cool set that revolved from a living room set to a kitchen, and even had Oprah as a guest. But it quickly crashed and burned.) I unfollowed her from Twitter because of her over the top support for the 45th POTUS and all his misdeeds.

I was weary when I read that Roseanne Connor would also be a rabid supporter of the president, but I justified this with it made sense that a working-class family from the American heartland would vote for a candidate that promised jobs.

Roseanne Barr persisted on Twitter with her disheartening rhetoric, and got the show canceled, and I’ll never find out what became of the Connors, but my curiosity is not worth Roseanne Barr having a platform for her vile racism.

Roseanne has sunk a promising reboot for the cast, crew, and the fans. While I would like to see the Connors continue on minus Roseanne, I question the people that thought it was a good idea to turn the Roseanne character back into the hands of Roseanne Barr.

Here’s the quote that ended the original series finale, “Those who dream by night, in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that all was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, and make it possible.” What? How does this encapsulate the lives of the Connor family?  It doesn’t.

 

On not being a mother

“Do you have any kids?” The question was barked at me one summer a few years ago. I was at a busy city intersection when I was trying to rush from one job to another and was blocked by a woman ostensibly handing out fast food coupons. It was a pretty insensitive and a loaded thing to ask a stranger. The streetlight couldn’t change fast enough.

“Well, I feel sorry for you,” she finally literally sneered at me.

Um, what?

From mothers vocalizing regret about having children, to articles scolding women and warning them that their life will be empty and lonely if they don’t embrace parenthood, there is a lot of focus on motherhood and those who opt out.

This past Mother’s Day a meme circulated with a message I found very touching, unexpected, and meaningful. Under cartoon bouquets of flowers there were captions describing different aspects of motherhood, and one bouquet was dedicated to women who have chosen not to be mothers.

I have never wanted children. Like at all. Not ever with absolute certainty. In my 30s I questioned this for the first time. It was the sudden loud and very real biological clock that started ticking when I met my niece Grace that caused the questioning to start.

I watched awed as she examined her tiny little feet and hands. I felt fulfilled and needed in a way I’ve never felt before when I gently patted her little back, helping her to burp.

I was suddenly putting myself through agony trying to get my life ready, trying to figure out if parenthood was something I truly wanted.

I was happy babysitting my niece. I’m happy being an aunt to my other nieces and nephews. Grace was born at a difficult time in my life and being happy about her birth didn’t have to translate into me being a mother.

People are well-meaning. They ask me to picture how sad my life will be in the future without children to visit me when I’m old.  They remind me it’s a life altering experience, and that  I’m missing out on so much, that I can’t even imagine what I’m giving up. They remind me gently that it’s not too late.

There is still time for me, technically, but the window is rapidly closing.

I don’t want to have to second guess a decision that I and my partner finally made together. If we ever change our minds in the future, there’s always adoption, or foster parenting.

Privately or publicly it seems women are expected to justify their decisions for not having children.

Am I doomed to be an incomplete person?  Am I selfish? Am I letting down the human race in some way?

I don’t think so.

Some people just know they want children. Maybe they’ve always known, but can’t explain why, and no one must expect them to. So likewise, no one must expect women who don’t want children to explain themselves either.

 

 

 

 

To be, or not to be

To study Shakespeare or not to study Shakespeare: can we just not?

During the marital combining of the book collection, I had a Norton and the Mr. had a Broadview copy of collected works of Shakespeare, and neither of us would budge, so we ended up keeping both. I’m not sure why entirely, because I flat out don’t like Shakespeare.

My book came from the most torturous university class I ever had, a summer school Shakespeare course.  I had to read a new play every two or three days for the whole month of July. Despite a well-meaning professor trying to walk us through the Bard’s genius, the plays never came alive.

In a first-year English class I studied Taming of the Shrew and the professor convinced us that it wasn’t misogynistic at all, that it was actually very winking and clever and Katherine was in on the joke.

Maybe? Who knows. Even Shakespeare scholars don’t know much. Is there even any definitive proof he wrote all those plays? And besides are plays even meant to be read in the first place?

It’s also a real slog for students to learn iambic pentameter, putting stressed and unstressed marks over all those syllables, trying to understand the convoluted plots, and identifying all the poetic devices, while deciphering ancient wordplay.

It’s  additionally unsettling that women kill themselves all the time in Shakespeare plays and that there is so much gloom and doom. Aside from the questionable treatment of women in many of these plays, it’s also a heartbreaking and real problem when students start to hate English class and consider it an obstacle to their future. I’ve worked with kids whose grades in math and the sciences are in the 90s but are freaking out that their English grade will drag down their average and limit their university prospects.

There is beauty in the language of Shakespeare, and universal themes in his stories, but maybe we could limit the intake to some sonnets, studying one or two plays, one unit on Elizabethan England, or perhaps a  field trip to Stratford.

Some school boards have made waves by discontinuing the tradition of teaching Shakespeare. Will more follow?  Yes please!

 

Why is there still a Target-sized hole in my heart?

Sears didn’t mean much to me. It was just a shortcut to the rest of the mall, that is until it started to get really interesting, right before it went under. A huge banner advertised a new slogan “What the Sears?”. The store was constantly under renovation. There were suddenly shelves of reasonably priced housewares and a hopeful sign that read a café was coming soon. It was a desperate makeover to stave off bankruptcy — and it didn’t work. When Sears inevitably closed, I realized with a sinking feeling the Christmas tradition staple the Wish Book was now canceled.

It was one more blow to the seemingly bleak retail landscape.

While Sears was unfortunate, and my childhood will forever miss that giant book of toys and holiday possibilities, there’s one that really hurts­— the one that got away.

The store I made a beeline for every time I went to the States was finally coming to Canada! I trekked to the Cloverdale Mall in Etobicoke on Target’s opening day, but immediately something felt off. The huge store felt empty and the stock placement seemed random. I gave it chance after chance, but it never got better. It was a big debacle, and Target eventually went back to the States defeated, leaving behind empty real-estate and its big concrete balls.

Target shot its shot and lost. It came on too strong and took on too much too fast. In its zeal to enter Canada, it had taken over all of the leases of the now defunct Zellers and quickly discovered not all the spaces were suitable to be transformed into Targets. I wondered, did Canada also play a part? Was it Stephen Harper’s fault? When he ditched the beloved long-form census did it leave the corporation without enough demographic information to make proper expansion decisions?

Whatever the case, Target it’s-not-you-its-me’d itself right out the door, and I found myself at its funeral. I wanted to say goodbye in my own way, and see if there was one last bargain to score from the sad clearance wreckage. Mourners and a handful of media were gathered. Bagpipes played. A sobbing girl laid flowers. A protestor held a sign that read, God hates fake funerals. It was…something. I guess I wasn’t the only one looking for closure.

And then, suddenly, I was hit with feelings of nostalgia for another departed store. The company that was cut to make room for Target —Zellers. I felt longing for the sales racks I had combed through with my mom, the café where I had coconut cream pie with my mother-in-law, my hometown store where the teddy bear mascot beckoned, “Come ride with me! All aboard the Zeddy wheel.” I was so psyched by Target’s arrival, I didn’t even think to miss Zellers.

Stores promise they will always be there. They promise to help everyone, “live better.” So, there’s something uniquely traumatizing about seeing a store being liquidated to the bare studs, with everything for sale, including the fixtures. The space stripped of its former meaning. And going through this process again and again, store after store, what kind of damage is that doing to the Canadian spirit?

Will all these closures scare off potential suitors?

It’s not like I’m totally without selection. There’s places where I can shop for groceries and get a pair of pajamas. Well-lit pharmacies where I can pick up prescriptions and get 40 per cent off on a bestselling paperback.

But there’s something missing. There’s not one place where I can go to for everything, a place I can wander around and get design ideas while I shop for food, and look at clothes I actually want to wear, with sizeable departments so if I’m in a hurry I don’t have to run all over the damn place.

Maybe it’s time to move beyond brick and mortar stores and embrace the future. Order everything online? But sometimes, I just don’t know what I want until I see it.

How can retail be dead anyway when the largest online retailer in the galaxy, Amazon, just opened up a store? And there was a line up around the block to get in?

I can’t help feeling like there’s something missing. Target could have been the one. But, for whatever reason, it wasn’t, and now there’s abandoned retail space that to this day sits empty and in need of revitalization. For a company that has the imagination, there’s a Target/Zellers sized hole to fill. There’s an opportunity for someone to mend the retail therapy gaps. If only someone will just step up and try.

 

Featured Image by Mike Mozart