Even when you leave a job, it stays with you. There鈥檚 an ominous opening sentence
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Jobs stamp an indelible imprint on you. Whether you work somewhere for five weeks, five decades, or anything in between, you鈥檙e affected by it. I have service industry friends who can calculate tip percentages faster than a computer. I know boat operators who can feel a weather change in their bones. I鈥檝e seen theatre actors force themselves into the centre of attention (though that has more to do with their rampant egomania than anything else). Work defines us.
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Before I was a reporter, I worked in the lawless jungle of communications. Before that, I dipped my toes into camp counselling and tour guiding. All of those jobs have given me their fair share of skills (and mental scars).
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I was thinking about employment memories as I hunched my way through the underground tunnels of Moose Jaw.
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I wasn鈥檛 a rum runner for trigger-happy mobsters during my summer vacation. Nor was I a miner plumbing the earth for hidden wealth. I worked in that most respected and noble profession: Historical reenactment.
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In Nova Scotia, summer jobs skew heavily towards tourism. So when my local 鈥渓iving history鈥� museum offered a position, I signed up.
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I was assigned the role of historical animator. They gave me a faded plaid shirt, a busted-up pair of overalls, and called me a farm hand.
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The museum was a recreation of a 1940s homestead. We had vintage cars, buildings, and clothes. Chickens and sheep roamed the grounds. Tourists could explore life from 70 years ago.
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My job (when I wasn鈥檛 keeping the sheep away from the nearby highway) was to 鈥渁ct鈥� in the homestead. I had to explain tools, chat about 1940s news, and spin stories for the tourists. I lived the character for a new audience every day. For someone who struggles with public speaking at times, it could be a hard gig.
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In the Moose Jaw tunnels, I found myself on the other side of the reenactor-tourist divide. I plunged into the 鈥淧assage of Fortune鈥� tour, which documented the Chinese immigrant experience, primarily in laundromats. If that sounds depressing, well...it was.
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Now, I must say, the tour was excellent. Walking under the Moose Jaw streets was chilling. The tunnel snaked its way through backrooms and work stations, highlighting different aspects of the immigrant experience. It was a great trip.
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Our tour guides were equally excellent. However, there were brief moments where they acted out scenes of employers and immigrants. I don鈥檛 want to sound mean, but acting wasn鈥檛 their strong suit. They had a lot of lines to remember and you almost see their mental Rolodexes flipping to remember every word.
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A part of me cringed at it. There鈥檚 that section of your brain that always winces at public performances. But more than that, I wanted to applaud them because I know where they鈥檝e been. I know the struggle of acting for a group of strangers. I know how hard it can be to summon the courage to perform. And they do it every day.
That might be the biggest takeaway from any job: Empathy for people听 standing in your shoes. That鈥檚 something extra to take with you along with a r茅sum茅 reference.
