StoryWorth Question:  How did you get your first job?

Up on the hill, on the other side of the street from our house, stood an aging duplex.  In one side lived Mamie and Francis, mother and daughter, who were very quiet and kept very much to themselves.

The “Good” family, Mom, Dad and three children, lived on the far side.  Mrs. Good, or, “Good-Doris -Across-the-Street” as we used to call her, was a happy soul who coffeed with Mom and Gram a few times a week.  Little did I know she was eyeing me up for a babysitting position during those social hours, and I have always wondered what she saw in me in that regard, for I didn’t play much with dolls, preferred the company of adults, and didn’t have younger siblings.  In short, I was miserable babysitter material.

Nonetheless she hired me, either out of pity or desperation, I suppose, and at the tender age of twelve I started looking after her three young children on Saturday nights when Good Doris and her husband would go out on the town following a week of working at a factory (Doris) and  construction (Jess.)  

Looking back, I imagine this time for the Goods was a welcome respite from their jobs and family responsibilities.  It was obvious that they were just scraping along, and yet, Good Doris always paid handsomely and had the house clean, dishes done and children bathed and ready for bed when I arrived.

So really, all I had to do was pop them in, police the stairway until they fell asleep, and then read Good Doris’ romance magazines and watch TV until Dave Moore and the Sealy Mattress commercials portended the dreaded test pattern and the end of the TV signal for the night.  Good Doris always told me to go to sleep, but I tried hard – not always successfully – not to.  It was a pretty cushy job, maybe even the best one I’ve ever had:  no real work to be done, reading magazines and watching whichever TV programs I wanted, I could sleep on the job and, oh yes, the great snacks Good Doris would always leave for me.  In retrospect, I think I should have paid her!

Eventually Good Doris and her family bought a house across town and settled into a new neighborhood, and while we didn’t visit as often, we did keep in touch.  In our family, Good Doris is remembered for her charming “Dorisms”  —  “I wouldn’t do that for all the peas in China,” and talk of a delicious “powerhouse” steak— and for her generous heart, big smile and unflagging optimism.  As for myself, Good Doris will always be remembered for being the first and best employer a girl could ever have.