As I was bidding my first-year acquaintances farewell for the summer back in May, my heart clenched every time someone asked me the age-old question, “So, what are you doing over break?”
The reason for this dread was that, unlike most of my professionally-minded peers with corporate internships lined up, I planned to spend my summer sweating through outdoor manual labor, making lattes and selling shampoo bars. Though I was initially skeptical — and perhaps a bit ashamed — of my modest work plans, I’ve since found that “silly” summer jobs have their own value.
Back in high school as a student interested in the environment, I took an internship at an organic farm for a senior year project. That same year, I secured my dream job at a local sustainability store and café. When I was offered the opportunity to work both jobs again this summer, I took it, despite the fact that neither would get me much closer to my post-graduate career goals.
Now, I spend two days a week feeding and watering chickens, cleaning eggs and counting sheep at the farm. My days as a farmhand are long and very hot, and by the end of each shift, I am always covered with a layer of mystery grime that I don’t even try to identify. It required a lot of mental strength to not break down in tears the first time I was sent to clean out the chicken coops in 90-degree weather — not to mention the fact that they wouldn’t stop pecking my hands. It’s an exhausting, and often very frustrating, job.
After I recover from the grueling-hot farm days, I spend my weekends wearing many hats at the sustainability store, working as a barista, ice cream scooper and sales associate all at once. Unlike my somewhat-isolating work on the farm, my job at the store allows me to interact with hundreds of different people every week — regulars and new customers alike. By working this job, I’ve encountered people from all walks of life, and I am steeped in a community of artists.
While this dynamic environment keeps my weekends interesting, it’s not easy being barraged with orders while trying to remember what type of milk I need to pour into each drink. Doing so, and still being friendly to impatient customers, is difficult.
However, I’ve found that most of the time, these endless interactions have invigorated me, rather than drained me, despite my introverted personality. Serving people drinks and selling them things they love allows me to give joy to others and receive it in return. That’s the magic of a completely customer-facing job. Through my interactions with patrons, the range of my empathy for others has expanded, and my people skills have vastly improved. Plus, I’ve gained a greater appreciation for the service workers that I encounter elsewhere. Never again will I walk away from a tip jar without putting something in it.
Similarly, I’ve learned a lot from the challenges I’ve faced on the farm. I’ve learned discipline and patience, and I’ve healed my attention span by doing long, boring tasks without media like television or music to entertain me. I’ve also learned how to be dirty and appreciate the grittier side of the nature I love.
Rather than making me want to quit and move right into a comfy office job, the difficulties of working on the farm and at the store have shown me that I am building strength and cultivating empathy. Even though an internship would have looked nicer on my resume, I’m so relieved I didn’t pass up these work opportunities.
So, yes, I’ve felt the internal and external pressure to find a more serious summer position, as most University students do. But I’ve found that spending my first college summer doing these casual summer jobs was just as worthwhile. I’ve gotten firsthand, on-the-ground experience in the industries that keep our society running. I’ve grown through everyday interactions with scores of people I might never have met otherwise. And I made summer memories that I will certainly never forget, instead of just getting a small preview of my future nine to five.
Now, I can confidently add “shoveled chicken poop” to my resume — and though it isn’t glamorous, it speaks more to my character than anything I could have typed into a spreadsheet.