My First Experience As A Worker

All those early photos of me and other stuff on my Instagram page, taken at different times throughout any day. I'm quite surprised most haven't worked it out and mentioned it to me. Perhaps they've asked themselves the big question instead. Does Travis James have a job? This had long been something I tried avoiding when it came to talks with my parents. It's something I have long hidden from nearly everybody outside my family. The truth is that I have been jobless for more than eight years, with next to no taste of the work industry. During this period, I've seen myself go through different phases from having no motivation to becoming absolutely desperate. There have been job interviews, job trials, applications, suggestions and so on. Basically everything one could think of except for employment. Times have been tough and somewhat embarrassing for me, especially when I see everyone around me seemingly have very few problems pushing forward to bigger and better things.

It all began back in high school, when I was just one of countless students fighting the tough battles of homework and the set education curriculum. A time when the workforce was its friendliest to humankind, demanding for young teenagers to step through the doors while the pressures of studying remained significant. For me, what was meant to be a sign of harder times in life to come showed itself as a form of living hell. School in my final years saw me practically consumed by an ever-evolving, systematic approach to existence. I was left completely stressed out by the workload and barely had any proper support to overcome the grueling sessions. And to think I was supposed to juggle a part-time position after hours for the sole sake of gaining work experience. Having heard the words of struggle from students to apathetic teachers about the dividing of their time, I knew I was no chance to do the same and survive. The little voice in my head said to keep focused on what was already in front of me.

Following the challenge of my final school exams, I immediately felt the need to step away from everything for at least a year. To taste life once again without the burden of homework. The decision only seemed more appropriate by the day, and reached the point of being completely correct after learning of my humiliatingly low ATAR number which all but ruled me out of any potential studies at tertiary level. I discovered that I wasn't in the right condition to take off straight away. In some ways it was pure laziness, but in other ways it was the time to relieve tensions and get my health right. My mother and brother have often stated their view of the gap year being a waste of time, seeing it as something that destroyed the best chances for me to take the next step. While I do agree it made things slightly more difficult, I have now and then informed my family that I had no regrets whatsoever with the choice to take a break from strenuous activities.

Walking into 2016, I well and truly knew I had enough time relaxing. It was then a matter of putting plans in place and making my next move. I set up a CV and began my search for some experience and knowledge in labour. I also decided on aiming for my driver's license, knowing I had to do something in the meantime whilst my applications were pending. Months went by with no luck at the job front, but I really started noticing how important it was to keep my foot in the door. It was around late 2016 to early 2017 when i was on the verge of a relapse. There was no routine and nothing to bring forth motivation. My sleep patterns were messed up and my food intake decreased. Adding to the very few opportunities available and the several messages of rejection from businesses, I was regressing to a weaker state. With a year break being no option, I force myself to tackle the situation while also working my way around it.

From 2017 onward, things became increasingly harder. Continuing my search for work, I found myself another step closer to a couple of vacant positions. The first of them came in the form of a job interview for a part-time labourer. An interview where I tried getting the best out of myself. I dressed up neatly, arrived early and tried with all my might to speak in a manner that would help my chances at getting the tick of approval. But after spending minutes of filling out forms, the woman who interviewed me returned with some lethal strikes about my physical condition. She would finish off saying that blue collar work wasn't for me. I walked out deflated, though I refused to believe my options were limited. It was not long later I picked up on where I went wrong in the interview. The points I raised about myself that stood against what the position required. Instead of providing the details the woman wanted to hear, I provided her with what was the truth about me. So I basically said 'no' to the job whilst trying to disguise it as a 'yes'. There was nobody to blame except for myself. I guess honesty is not all what it cracks up to be. Lesson Number One: One has to sometimes lie and withhold information to achieve certain things.

The second of two opportunities came in the form of a job trial as an upholster. After coming across a job vacancy in the local paper that accepted non-experienced applicants for training, I immediately jumped on board and contacted the business via email. Putting myself forward didn't run so smoothly, as I rushed the e-mail and forgot to attach my CV. Luckily, the manager got back to remind me and was a little lenient. He scheduled a time in the morning for me to show what I was capable of. Come that morning, my mother had my lunch packed believing I would be working for the entire day. However, I felt things weren't going to be so great. I arrived on time and was immediately introduced to my supposed trainer, who had a heavy accent and didn't speak great English. He gave me a tutorial in stuffing caravan cushions, though there was an awful lot to take in. It was made aware to me that I needed the strength and good eyes to do perform that task efficiently, neither of which I had at the time. I was expected to fill 150 caravan cushions a day in my role according to the manager, yet I couldn't do one. After 40 minutes, I was let go and kicked out to the kerb, waiting 20 minutes for my mother to come pick me up. I now and then saw myself to blame, but my family now and then thought there was nothing more I could do. Looking back on it months later, I tend to agree with them. Lesson Number Two: One must understand they are open to dodgy job opportunities.

My confidence in finding suitable work took a big hit from those moments. They left me to question whether I was going to find what I was looking for and whether I had the skills and abilities to do any particular task. As the negative thoughts continued coming on, the avenues in job finding were decreasing. The local paper were no longer advertising the several vacancies they used to. Hundreds of jobs were also being sold overseas by the week. It was down to nothing but online applications for businesses with strangers, training in the far east or positions nobody else wanted. One of them I applied for was a graveyard shift at a petrol station approximately a kilometre away. It took me a day or two to realise the huge risk I was throwing myself towards. A job with many dangers from facing criminals to suffering stress and diabetes. My parents suggested this wasn't the way to go, and I reluctantly agreed. The day of the interview, I went to turn down the chance and once again went back to the drawing board. Regardless of the offer, each one I'm turning down left me more and more depressed.

It got to the point where I told my family what I found to be the truth. The only way I was ever going to ease my way comfortably into the work industry, was through somebody they knew. It would be my father's regular customers or my brother's fellow workmates. Instead of bothering with online job-seeking accounts and updating a not-so-pretty résumé, I sat around pinning my hopes on any door left ajar through family or relatives. It wasn't by any means a good approach, but it did see me with a bit of luck. One Monday, dad reached me from his work and informed me of a casual position as a battery warehouse assistant offered by his former boss. He asked me whether I wanted to go ahead with it, which I replied back saying I didn't have a choice. The very next day, I was sitting in the small northern branch of a growing business and filling out a number of forms. By Wednesday, I was officially an employee. A temporary position, but one that would guarantee me walking out with some experience, references and other pleasant things for my CV.

As expected with most things both new and unfamiliar, it took me a few days to obtain a good understanding. I made many mistakes at first, especially during the times when I was either counting stock or memorising the numbers and locations of certain batteries. While the manager expressed leniency and ensured my training was secure, I was covertly hard on myself. Any mistakes were unacceptable in my eyes, as I was well overdue with both gaining work experience and carrying out tasks effectively. But sharing the times with high expectations were moments when I did give myself a pat on the back and become proud of my achievements. I came around to notice the apparent improvements and growth of knowledge over the course of three and a half weeks. The further compliments from the higher of the personnel only left a bigger smile on my face. The biggest boss did take a little longer though, having raised a concern or two about my unclear career aspirations at first. But I wasn't fazed much by the criticism as I considered it reasonably normal to remain uncertain about such stuff at 23 years of age.

Despite my time in the warehouse as a whole being something I'm incredibly proud of, the journey wasn't always smooth sailing. While loading a delivery truck within the first eight days, I sustained an injury to my left arm. The driver did not have the keys to the back door at the time, and so was in need of someone to get into the truck and fill the spaces towards the back door underneath a low steel shelf. That was where I came in with some awkward handling and lifting of the heavy batteries. During the exhausting process, I was occasionally left having to stretch and twist my arms in ways I believed were somewhat unsafe. My left elbow was put under severe stress here, only to be further aggravated in a gym session that followed on the day. The injury lasted for just over a week, hindering my performance at work. The manager picked up on it after watching me struggle in a couple of simple tasks. The pain was severe to the point where I couldn't move the arm and had to rest it with my hand in the pocket of my high-visibility vest. An embarrassing situation, though I couldn't afford to take any time off. I fought through my job with the pain, showcasing my persistence and eagerness to learn new stuff.

I was brought in as a casual assistant to the warehouse supervisors, as each took their turn at annual leave. My first trainer was relatively more quiet and less experienced. He didn't quite guide me around much compared to the main supervisor in the back half of my time. However, he gave me breathing space and interacted with me in a way normal friends would. Following the first week and a half, he would go back to his home country to get married during his leave. The beginning of week three was when I really started coming out of my shell. I got to work alongside the main man, a senior worker and old friend of my father. With a greater level of communication, he showed me around and opened me to new responsibilities. Other workers even picked up on this in the first couple of days we worked together.My view of the job industry looked less complicated whilst under the wing of the warehouse supervisor. He even offered me a chance to drive a forklift, though I politely declined due to owning no licence and having a severe lack of recent experience behind any sort of wheel. His guidance was one of the few things I was disappointed in losing in the end. He too hated me having to finish my position.

It didn't take very long for my vision of work to look more pleasant. The first day was a little unsettling and I walked out feeling as if what I learnt meant next to nothing. But that would change completely the very next day. As I adjusted to the new environment, things were easier to pick up on. The role became more simple after every hour spent in the place. My understanding of the terminology rose from zero on the first day, to a satisfactory level on the last. And I was amazed by how much was learnt in less than a month. Picking and packing orders, charging and testing batteries, replenishing and rotating stock, counting and loading trucks, customer service and tax invoices, etc. Everything added together had strangely made for a fun experience. Never did I ever believe that I'd enjoy working, as it was never an intention. In fact, I don't think it's anybody's ultimate intention to love their job. Work is meant to grant joy rather than be the joy. I guess though it was good for me as it made everything about employment easier to grasp.

One of the biggest challenges with this position though, was fixing my routine and adapting to the cold conditions. I wasn't quite used to it all at first, often waking up after little sleep and arriving in a few hoodies and jackets underneath my hi-visibility vest. It was something that regularly caught the attention of most people at work, with the common response being how cold I found the time and place to be. I would even zip up my mask hoodies once or twice, surprising a couple of customers. It was all in good fun and a means to pass some time away, though I did have my valid reasons. The first of them obviously being the cold temperatures, while the second was me attempting to avoid any inhaling of the dirt and dust during my sweeping of the factory floor. As the days went by, I found myself handling the conditions better. On top of that, I was coming out of my shell and speaking louder. I interacted better with the other workers and even made some suggestions to the supervisors in regards to the managing and organisation of the workplace. 

In its entirety, my first ever experience as an employee was one of a dream come true. It was a small step into business life, but also one of the smoothest that would change my view of everything for better. It was an adventure that absolutely crapped all over my mandatory glimpse into retail work in the midst of year ten studies (Very Superstitious). It was good pay whilst working with respectful people and taking on simple tasks. I made new friends and even stumbled across old ones from primary school. It may have not been a heap of experience, but it was experience nonetheless. These managers had done me a huge favour. They kick-started my journey into the world of employment after I spent years endlessly searching for the ideal vacancy (and having no luck in doing so). It's thanks to them, I now look forward to making my next move. With a positive perspective of work life and a slight increase in suitable opportunities, things are looking to be "relatively easier" for me.

Travis "TJ" James