The Adjusted Normal, 58. Tuna Come, Tuna Go.

Our daughter started work yesterday.

She's worked before, though for short periods. One summer she worked a month as a door-to-door salesman for a mobile phone company. Needless to say, she never sold a phone plan, but she wasn't let go because she actually went to the apartments and rang the doorbells. Other young co-workers of hers sometimes sat at a café, instead. She left because it was a soulless job, convincing someone to buy something when she is against modern day publicity and battering to buy.

Last summer, she worked a few weeks in August picking blueberries, and met people from different places of the world, some of whom she is still friends with. During the fall and early winter, she studied for the entrance exams to the Spanish Correos (Post Office), which she failed to pass by very little. Then, came the lockdown. At the beginning of summer she was between looking for a job or studying this coming school year. She decided to work and save up money to study something the following year.

It so happened that the only permanent, serious work, with serious pay and eight hours, is at the canneries. Working in retail would mean six days a week and at the most, minimum wage. Working in hostelry is iffy this year, and would probably mean seven days a week, long hours, and, if they paid her minimum wage, she could kiss their feet. (Aside from the fact that she would probably be paid in black, and she would then not acquire any time toward her future retirement.) It is to cry. The job situation is such that a college graduate has to accede to a tough, unskilled job to make some decent money. 

So, she got a job at a nearby large cannery. Yesterday was her first day, and she was started right off carrying and unpacking large boxes with tuna fish for other women to cut and stack. It's some of the toughest work because the boxes weigh a lot. She's lucky she built some muscle by practicing boxing. Toward the end of the day, she was taken to a belt where she had to skin cooked tunas. That was the best part for her, because the hours there seemed to whirl by.

When she came home, close to midnight (the 3PM to 11PM shift), she told us how she had covered herself in tunafish. Some even made it into her mouth. Truth is, when she came home, a strong fishy smell came in with her, and it still seems to linger in the air today. She assured us that she does not want to work in a cannery the rest of her life, no matter how good the pay is. 

I admire that she wants to save money toward furthering her education. The sad part is that she has no other place to earn decent money. She is not interested in studying for high paying jobs, but she would like to find something, preferably to do with the earth, that she can feel content doing. She wants nothing to do with retail and publicity and the Mad Men way of thinking. Selling is the absolute last thing she wants to touch. She had thought about signing up for vocational studies specializing in wine and vineyards. Or olive oil. Whatever she finally dedicates herself to, it won't be cleaning tuna fish, and getting covered in it, like yesterday.

The irony is that she's a vegetarian.

Life continues.