So here I am, out of college, thinking I'm big shit because I have an expense account, company car...and a real job. Now, in the first job out of college, one expects certain things. An etiquette if you will. I experienced possibly the least professional work environment in my first year(s) of being out college...which probably has ruined me for life...but regardless, I wouldn't have it any other way.
In the world of college admissions, there tends to be a bit of a revolving door. In the traditional undergraduate realm, a lot of recent college grads, get jobs in admissions because they can't seem to break the tie from their college years. Where I worked, we all had Catholic guilt, and couldn't leave the job even if they insisted on paying us in peanuts and continuing to add to the work load. I believe nearly our entire staff had graduated from the college....some all way back in the 1960's!! No lie.
My first year was awesome. My college roomie was an admission counselor with me. Mary is my sista from another mista. We know what the other is thinking before it's even said...and when we were both in town, and stuck in the office, rarely did the clock hit 11:00am without one of us saying: "So...Happy Hour at Tequila's after work?" We were at Happy Hour, if we were in town for the full week...I would venture to say 4 of the 5 work days. There was much to be discussed over Mexican beer and margaritas.
When Mary and I first started it was like watching a circus. Our colleagues had worked with each other for so long, that their idiosyncrasies, had become like second nature, and as a newcomer to the office, we thought these people were bat shit crazy. Let me explain the dynamics: (for this particular segment I will be using fake names, as I'm not totally sure about how many people there read this, nor would I want to use their name and have them try to sue me. Unlike others that just are attention whores, and love having their name mentioned in my blog.) If I am leaving you out and you're reading this, you probably mean nothing to me. Hahaha, just kidding...I just worked with some longer than others, that's all. Love you long time. Mind you, not all of these people were always there together, or at the same time, I was there for 6 years, so I saw some come and go, these are just the ones that stick out in my mind.
*Candice: A woman set in her ways, sounds like she has smoked 3 packs a day, and has coughing fits like she has smoked that many since the age of 12. At first she would go into this coughing fits and I would look around like, "Why is no one helping this woman?!" But turns out, some of her potentially blackened lung would cough out, she'd slurp some water, and be back to good in no time. She has worked in every facet of the college, and was now going to spend her last years until retirement in the Admission Office...while she could scare the crap out of any freshman student worker, she was a teddy bear at heart.
*Nicki: She was pregnant with her first child when I started, and wanted to tell us every single day about how the pregnancy was progressing. I was 23, and could care less...but what was confusing at first about this gal, was that she would read the local paper OUT LOUD to us nearly every morning. Initially I would look around, and comment back to her, "No way! Crazy townies!" Until one day *Candice told me, she doesn't expect an answer, she's just reading willy nilly. She was pregnant again not long after, and by the time I left that place a few years later, I was hearing daily updates about her children's poop, vomit and other bodily functions/fluids. While I was always on information overload, there's something I miss about those daily updates.
*Keith: He had been in the office since I believe the mid 70's...I could be wrong about that..my memory is fading every day...He was raised in Joilet, Illinois is a unique mix of Italian and Polish..however, while raised in the midwest, you would think it was the east coast, and that Don Vito Corleone was his father. He could quote anything from any of the Godfather movies, loved The Soprano's and here's my favorite part: His car was like Mary Poppin's carpet bag. He was a regional rep for us, and would be back and forth to the Twin Cities on a weekly basis. If you needed something and didn't want to run to the store, it was probably in his car. Here is a small sampling: duct tape, hangers, towels, iron/ironing board, coffee maker, extension cords, various promotional materials from the school, so many suit coats, and dress shirts hooked to one hook in the car, that you were just sure it was going to break...and this was never proven, but he claimed he had it: A sawed off shot gun.
*Jasmine: Now she was a real treat. Every office has one. The one that tells everyone she is just fine, and doesn't need help, but has her fingers in so many pies she can't see straight. Delegation was not her strong suit. She was notorious for stomping around, and not saying anything just sighing heavily wherever she went when she was busy. Making copies? (Big annoying sigh) Using the paper cutter? (clearly I'm a big deal, I'm going to sigh and let people know I'm over extended!) Initially I tried to help when I could because I noticed people were ignoring her...but then come to find out, that's just her M.O. So by year 2, I had stopped noticing the sighs all together, and just knew that in no way, shape, or form did she want help, she just wanted us to know how busy she was. And we all accepted that.
*Shelly: Was notorious for pop culture. If there was a new show, or movie, she was going to see it. If I needed to know about what celeb was sleeping with who, she was just one short walk away to find out the details. Generally speaking, I didn't even have to watch television shows, she was going to give me the entire summary the next day while getting my morning coffee and creamer. Matter of fact, I've never even watched an episode of Glee, and I know who every character is, what their back ground story is, and who they're banging on the show. Pretty useful gal to have around. If I'm ever in an episode of Cash Cab, I hope I would be with her, she would dominate.
*Dave: Not changing his name because he's my brotha from another motha, and attention whore like myself. Didn't graduate from our college, but a similar one in Iowa (don't judge him on that fact alone) so he was a natural fit at the school. Which is probably why he was hired on 3 seperate occasions. Yup, once while I was in school as a student, he quit...hired again while I was in my first year or two as an admission counselor, quit, and then helped a bit when a counselor left mid year. You know the phrase, "he could sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman wearing white gloves"? That was Dave. You met him, loved him, and he could recruit any one to the school. AND...he loved to give people shit. If there's a hornet's nest, he would find it, poke it, and probably knock it down...and somehow in all the chaos, manage to not get stung.
*Russ: This guy was classic. He was Vietnam Vet, passionate about higher ed...and the most politically incorrect man there was. He notoriously didn't know how to email or use any kind of modern day technology. He shouted most of the time because his hearing was shot, and walked with a purpose like he was still hot on Charlie's tail. He also had a stellar pair of Blue Blocker sun glasses, and before driving anywhere, would apply chapstick from his lips to his skin on his upper lip, just below his nose. He took the job very seriously, and in the end, only wanted what was best for his students.
*Neil: (Again, no name change here, he's my brotha) For someone who was fresh out of college when he took the job, he had a beard like a 47 year old. Full. On. Beard. I offered to shave it many times when I was drunk...and sober, but he never took me up on it. He was a newbie to the world of admissions, and I worked with him my last 2 years in the office. At first I pegged him as a douche. But turns out, he was just socially awkward, and waiting to find others in the office that were equally as tainted as he was. Instead of taking notes during meetings, he would write down notes in haiku's. Which was impressive, because staff meetings tended to go on for hours and never get to a point, so I was surprised when he could condense so much of it into only 17 syllables.
*Aubrey: (No name change, just my crazy girl, who after Mary left me to marry her college sweet heart, Aubrey became my voice of reason in a world of complete chaos) I've saved the best for last. Aubrey is a teenage boys wet dream. She is stick thin, blonde hair, big blue eyes, and totally gorgeous. Has danced since the age of...some really young age...and still finds ways to dance. I think she may be the oldest cheerleader/dancer in the La Crosse Wisconsin area! Matter of fact, I picture her being 90, doing high kicks, and teasing boys. This girl has spunk. She got the job as visit coordinator to the office right out of college, and I immediately recruited her into our 'circle of trust' so we could have another alliance in the office. She eats Taco Bell and McDonald's like it's her job, and over the years she and I would become close forming and shaping the student ambassador program. She is completely inappropriate for the work place and without fail you can hear her burp half way across the office, and then she'll just look at you, like you're the crazy one. We had many good times together...
As you can see, there were many characters in my work life those first few years after college...and there's some great stories that go along with them...marinate on all of these personalities being in one office together...and that is where we will begin next time..
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
College..the later years...
After the glow of Freshman year wore off, it was time to get down to business. I needed to pick a major...Sophomore year, I took some more gen eds, continued to socialize, and drink beer...worked at the potato salad factory the following summer..and before I knew it: Junior year aka the half way point was upon me. By this point I had done the following majors: Theatre, Education, Business...and by now my parents were on high alert because I was not showing any real interest in any one major...so I had to pick something, and pick it fast, otherwise I was not going to graduate on time, (which I had to do an extra semester anyway, but we'll get to that) and I was going to really piss Ma & Pa Radke off. So, I thought long and hard about something I would be good at, or classes I had taken thus far, that I could do forever. I really liked the Education classes I took, and could see myself teaching high school students...Okay, what would I teach high school students?? Math? No, can't balance my check book, can't teach that class...Social studies? Maybe...Speech? Definitely, but let's face it, schools are more likely to cut that class than the basics come budget time....I know!! English. I loved to read, write, and talk about what I would read. This was clearly the major for me! And thus, my English Literature major was my final major of choice. The school I attended has a phenomenal Masters program in Education, so my thought was to finish the English Lit major, then do their year intensive Master's program in Education and teach when I was done. Well...I did half of that....(Oh, and every time you read 'English Literature', please imagine me saying it in a bad British accent. It makes the major that much useful, and funny.)
To say, I fit well into the English department at my college would be completely incorrect. There were professors that tolerated me, professors that loathed me, and there was one, and only one professor that told me I had talent, and could write some day if I wanted to. There were a few faculty members in that department that were under the impression they were working at an Ivy League college. When I didn't like a novel we got done reading, and expressed that opinion in class, they looked at me like I had 3 heads. Sorry, Russian Literature makes me want to blow my brains out. It is depressing, long winded, (much like this blog, so you would think I would love it) and in my world, served no point other than to get me a few credits closer to getting out of that department. What I loved was British and American Literature, but those classes were few and far between the Russian and Romantic periods, ugh. I found myself in classes where the professors didn't take my opinion seriously, or destroyed my papers because I shared a view other than theirs...I dreaded those classes, and I had at least 2 courses a semester like that. I began to get behind on reading, writing papers, and not participating in class because they made me feel like my opinion was worthless. It was a real struggle, I knew I needed to finish college, and at that point I just wanted a degree behind my name to put on a resume, I knew that if I walked into any interview, I would get hired. I work hard, I catch onto things quickly, and there was no way they wouldn't fall in love with me when they met me...I just had to get out of that damn English Department. I proceeded to do mediocre work through graduation, and there was no love loss on either side when I was finished and crossed the stage to get my diploma.
Speaking of graduation: Holy shit! I was graduating! What the hell was I going to do with my life?! I was so sick of school, I had tacked on an extra semester to get my thesis done (and put off taking the mandatory Stats class because I hate math) and now school sucked because my friends had graduated and I had no idea what I was going to do. The thought of the Master's program was way too much at that point, I was sick of school and home work and I wanted nothing to do with any more college courses, ever again. So I did what any person does, that has balls as big as I do: walked into my work/study job (I worked for the Admission office throughout my college career giving tours, and doing odds and ends around the office) whined to the Vice President about how I didn't know what I could do and maybe I could just intern in the office for a bit while I push my resume out...and that very day, he offered me a job as an Admission Counselor for my alma mater. No formal interview, never looked at my fake, just graduated, college resume, hired me, gave me a company car, credit card, and told me to recruit students...and recruit I did...as well as work with the most interesting group of individuals, that up until that point, I would have thought only existed in a sitcom.
Megan E. Radke the adult years, had begun...
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Potatoes follow me wherever I go...
That first year of college was a whirlwind. I was on my own for the first time and loving it. I could hardly believe it when my spring finals were over and I was being moved out of my dorm by my parents all over again. I was excited to get home, as all of my friends from high school were going to be home that summer as well. Clearly, we would pick up right where we left off. This was not the case. In that year apart, we had all met other friends, had college comparisons to share, and something was just off about the whole summer...Oh yeah, it was that we were now extremely poor college students, and when we weren't sleeping we were working. My parents informed me around Christmas time, I needed to be making more than slightly above minimum wage, which had been the case the prior 2 summers...in Albert Lea, the seasonal work is short lived...and there is only one place college kids go to earn money: The factories. Albert Lea has a plethora of factories, but there was one that seemed like a natural fit for yours truly: the potato salad factory.
Hollandale farmers had been selling their crops of potatoes, onions and cabbage to the factory for years, so it just seemed right the former queen of potatoes would work there. I secretly hoped I wouldn't get hired..but no such luck, that first day of summer vacation in 2001 I was at the factory at 6:00am. I was in a hair net, white jacket, and gloves by 7:00...and by 7:15, I wanted to end it all. It is working in that factory that ruined picnics for me, for life. Once you see potato salad or coleslaw go down a ginormous slide, you will never again be able to enjoy a barbeque.
Here's how it works: Each day you show up for work, (dressed to work all day in an environment that hovers around 32 degrees.) you throw the hair net on, jacket, gloves, rub your sleepy eyes, and then slowly head over to the bulletin board where the day's work assignments are. Now for the regulars there, they could generally expect to be in the same area every day...but for the summer help, we were pushed around to whatever area needed us. Not only is this a potato salad factory, it is also a factory of salads in general, so here's where you may be assigned:
*Big Line: This is where the huge slide is: massive orders for restaurants, grocery stores, etc were pumped out here.
*Retail: Miniture version of big line, except a vat is where the salad comes from, not a slide, to be pumped into small containers.
*Jello: (One of my favs) It's warmer in there, and smells deliciously fruity!
*Small Salads: 3 small lines run with 3 people a piece, much smaller side salads are made here like pasta salads, or cucumber/onion, etc. (Also, primarily all women run these lines, and they are mother like to the college students)
*Creams: (Another personal fav) 2 adorable women run this line, they just putter with things like, oreo cream, strawberry cream, etc. all day long. Again, mothering figures.
*Labels: If there was going to be a change in what we were making and had to clean between coleslaw or potato salad and they didn't need everyone, we went to labels. If you were in labels all day, it was going to be a long one. At that time, they put labels individually by hand on every single cover, of every single container. It was mind numbing.
*Veggies: Here you prepped for all the lines. There was one woman who ran the area, and again, when anyone had a minute we helped in veggies...or if they just didn't want to let one line go home early, then we were forced to peel onions for however long the day dictated. (There was never a lack of onions, just when one pallet would get done, another would magically appear, because onions were an ingredient in nearly all the salads.)
*Cabbage line: (My most dreaded area..and where I usually ended up because I was being punished for talking too much while working on any of the lines.) Generally they ran the cabbage line 2-3 days a week in the summer time. Usually all college students. The only thing I remotely liked about it, is that you got to walk up this flight of stairs and stand on a platform. I felt like I was on a stage..until the stinky cabbage would start rolling down from the bin, one person spikes the cabbage to go through the coring machine, then about 4 other stood on the other side where it would come out, and peel the nasty, stinky, slimy leaves off of it, put it on a belt that ran adjacent to the stinky belt, to be chopped and rinsed for the salad. Then 2 seasoned professionals spun the water out of cabbage on the other end. GROSS.
Those are the main areas you had the privledge of being assigned to. That first day, I never thought I was going to make it a whole summer. There were initially 2 distinct social groups in the plant. One, obviously, the college kids, and two, the lifers. Of course, the snotty college kids that we were, tried, to stick together as much as we could...but we would get seperated throughout the days, and pretty soon, we were going to have to talk to the regulars. It sucked for me because Albert Lea is just small enough, that word got out I was the homecoming queen the year before, and the lifers were refering to me as 'Queenie', and made the most simple jobs, like stacking boxes on a pallet, difficult ones, because they wanted to flex their superiority. Now, there was no reason to do this, anyone that could stay for multiple years in there, without windows, with supervisors under the impression they were curing Cancer, were clearly a superior human being in my eyes. Lord knows, I didn't have the intestinal fortitude to do that job for life. I was way too girly...and mostly lazy. However, after a few weeks, I was starting to break down the walls between the college kids and lifers. I mean come on, they had awesome stories to speed up the time. Like the gal that was 60 and did online dating, and told us all of her stories, or the nice man who was clearly crazy, and had 4 teeth...I had many discussions with him..and to this day, I couldn't tell you what one of them was about because I couldn't understand a word he said. Or one of my personal favorites, the former drug dealer, now reformed, who I had only read about in the papers, and when I had to work with him I was petrified. My first conversation with him went like this:
Me: Hey, so cabbage today huh?
Him: I guess...So where you go to college at?
Me: Winona.
Him: Winona, huh? Good acid there.
Me: I was not aware of that.
Such a nice little guy. He had a great sense of humor and if there was one thing I learned from all of the people I worked with there, it's to not judge a book by it's cover. I know we all say we know it, and our parents preach it to us...but every single person I met there that summer (and 3 summers following) were some of the nicest people I have ever met. They worked hard, and drank beer harder. If there was something I could appreciate about a person, it was that. This also gave me the push I needed when I would get back to school in the fall to keep working when I did just want to drink beer and ignore homework...the thought of going back there for life, was enough to keep my nose in the books.
There were some perks of working in a salad factory. Not many, but a few. One of my favorites was when I worked in Jello or Creams. You see, when they got done pumping the product out..the vat was then empty, and ready to be cleaned out...however, sometimes I took it upon myself to enjoy a little taste of the goodness. Nothing will beat the day I was in jello, had turned around, slipped on the mess I had made while dumping the jello into a vat, and looked like I had been jumped by Rainbow Brite herself. So after bruising my ass, and my pride, I decided when the vat was empty, to get one of the big scrappers and get a taste of what was left, and would not be pumped out for consumption to the public. I looked around, no one was there. I took the 5 foot long scrapper, scrapped the sides, looked around again, brought the delicous strawberry fluffiness to my lips, and took a nibble...It was from God himself. Just as I was about to bring the fluff to my lips for another taste I heard: "Megan!" It was my supervisor...in trying to not be seen...but still wanting a taste, I quick gave it one more lick, went to toss the scrapper in the vat, but somehow got fluff all over me, my face and managed to rip my hair net off, and there I stood, hand in the cookie jar...or vat of strawberry cream, as the case may be. I just stood there and tried to act like nothing happened...but not wearing your hair net in a food factory is like not wearing pants in public. It's noted. I was on the cabbage line the very next day.
To this day I wonder what my co workers in the factory are up to. If some are still there, if they talk about all the pranks we pulled on each other over the course of the 4 summers I was there. Whether they know it or not, they made an impact on this lil' lady, and I appreciate them for it every day. Even if I can't enjoy a BBQ on the 4th of July...
Hollandale farmers had been selling their crops of potatoes, onions and cabbage to the factory for years, so it just seemed right the former queen of potatoes would work there. I secretly hoped I wouldn't get hired..but no such luck, that first day of summer vacation in 2001 I was at the factory at 6:00am. I was in a hair net, white jacket, and gloves by 7:00...and by 7:15, I wanted to end it all. It is working in that factory that ruined picnics for me, for life. Once you see potato salad or coleslaw go down a ginormous slide, you will never again be able to enjoy a barbeque.
Here's how it works: Each day you show up for work, (dressed to work all day in an environment that hovers around 32 degrees.) you throw the hair net on, jacket, gloves, rub your sleepy eyes, and then slowly head over to the bulletin board where the day's work assignments are. Now for the regulars there, they could generally expect to be in the same area every day...but for the summer help, we were pushed around to whatever area needed us. Not only is this a potato salad factory, it is also a factory of salads in general, so here's where you may be assigned:
*Big Line: This is where the huge slide is: massive orders for restaurants, grocery stores, etc were pumped out here.
*Retail: Miniture version of big line, except a vat is where the salad comes from, not a slide, to be pumped into small containers.
*Jello: (One of my favs) It's warmer in there, and smells deliciously fruity!
*Small Salads: 3 small lines run with 3 people a piece, much smaller side salads are made here like pasta salads, or cucumber/onion, etc. (Also, primarily all women run these lines, and they are mother like to the college students)
*Creams: (Another personal fav) 2 adorable women run this line, they just putter with things like, oreo cream, strawberry cream, etc. all day long. Again, mothering figures.
*Labels: If there was going to be a change in what we were making and had to clean between coleslaw or potato salad and they didn't need everyone, we went to labels. If you were in labels all day, it was going to be a long one. At that time, they put labels individually by hand on every single cover, of every single container. It was mind numbing.
*Veggies: Here you prepped for all the lines. There was one woman who ran the area, and again, when anyone had a minute we helped in veggies...or if they just didn't want to let one line go home early, then we were forced to peel onions for however long the day dictated. (There was never a lack of onions, just when one pallet would get done, another would magically appear, because onions were an ingredient in nearly all the salads.)
*Cabbage line: (My most dreaded area..and where I usually ended up because I was being punished for talking too much while working on any of the lines.) Generally they ran the cabbage line 2-3 days a week in the summer time. Usually all college students. The only thing I remotely liked about it, is that you got to walk up this flight of stairs and stand on a platform. I felt like I was on a stage..until the stinky cabbage would start rolling down from the bin, one person spikes the cabbage to go through the coring machine, then about 4 other stood on the other side where it would come out, and peel the nasty, stinky, slimy leaves off of it, put it on a belt that ran adjacent to the stinky belt, to be chopped and rinsed for the salad. Then 2 seasoned professionals spun the water out of cabbage on the other end. GROSS.
Those are the main areas you had the privledge of being assigned to. That first day, I never thought I was going to make it a whole summer. There were initially 2 distinct social groups in the plant. One, obviously, the college kids, and two, the lifers. Of course, the snotty college kids that we were, tried, to stick together as much as we could...but we would get seperated throughout the days, and pretty soon, we were going to have to talk to the regulars. It sucked for me because Albert Lea is just small enough, that word got out I was the homecoming queen the year before, and the lifers were refering to me as 'Queenie', and made the most simple jobs, like stacking boxes on a pallet, difficult ones, because they wanted to flex their superiority. Now, there was no reason to do this, anyone that could stay for multiple years in there, without windows, with supervisors under the impression they were curing Cancer, were clearly a superior human being in my eyes. Lord knows, I didn't have the intestinal fortitude to do that job for life. I was way too girly...and mostly lazy. However, after a few weeks, I was starting to break down the walls between the college kids and lifers. I mean come on, they had awesome stories to speed up the time. Like the gal that was 60 and did online dating, and told us all of her stories, or the nice man who was clearly crazy, and had 4 teeth...I had many discussions with him..and to this day, I couldn't tell you what one of them was about because I couldn't understand a word he said. Or one of my personal favorites, the former drug dealer, now reformed, who I had only read about in the papers, and when I had to work with him I was petrified. My first conversation with him went like this:
Me: Hey, so cabbage today huh?
Him: I guess...So where you go to college at?
Me: Winona.
Him: Winona, huh? Good acid there.
Me: I was not aware of that.
Such a nice little guy. He had a great sense of humor and if there was one thing I learned from all of the people I worked with there, it's to not judge a book by it's cover. I know we all say we know it, and our parents preach it to us...but every single person I met there that summer (and 3 summers following) were some of the nicest people I have ever met. They worked hard, and drank beer harder. If there was something I could appreciate about a person, it was that. This also gave me the push I needed when I would get back to school in the fall to keep working when I did just want to drink beer and ignore homework...the thought of going back there for life, was enough to keep my nose in the books.
There were some perks of working in a salad factory. Not many, but a few. One of my favorites was when I worked in Jello or Creams. You see, when they got done pumping the product out..the vat was then empty, and ready to be cleaned out...however, sometimes I took it upon myself to enjoy a little taste of the goodness. Nothing will beat the day I was in jello, had turned around, slipped on the mess I had made while dumping the jello into a vat, and looked like I had been jumped by Rainbow Brite herself. So after bruising my ass, and my pride, I decided when the vat was empty, to get one of the big scrappers and get a taste of what was left, and would not be pumped out for consumption to the public. I looked around, no one was there. I took the 5 foot long scrapper, scrapped the sides, looked around again, brought the delicous strawberry fluffiness to my lips, and took a nibble...It was from God himself. Just as I was about to bring the fluff to my lips for another taste I heard: "Megan!" It was my supervisor...in trying to not be seen...but still wanting a taste, I quick gave it one more lick, went to toss the scrapper in the vat, but somehow got fluff all over me, my face and managed to rip my hair net off, and there I stood, hand in the cookie jar...or vat of strawberry cream, as the case may be. I just stood there and tried to act like nothing happened...but not wearing your hair net in a food factory is like not wearing pants in public. It's noted. I was on the cabbage line the very next day.
To this day I wonder what my co workers in the factory are up to. If some are still there, if they talk about all the pranks we pulled on each other over the course of the 4 summers I was there. Whether they know it or not, they made an impact on this lil' lady, and I appreciate them for it every day. Even if I can't enjoy a BBQ on the 4th of July...
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
College: A party with a 20K cover charge.
Hello all 11 of you on this warm, glorious evening in March. After an extended happy hour this evening with an old college friend, I decided it was time to start sharing Megan Radke - The College years with all of you. I'm just hoping I can do it justice.
The summer of 2000 sped by. Jay Z's song Big Pimpin' was the song blaring out of my 1989 Pontiac Sunbird convertible. (Oh yeah, forgot to mention that little tid bit, for my senior year dad said I needed a fun little car. I saw that beat up convertible on a used car lot in passing one day, and even though it had 160,000 miles on it, dad couldn't resist my puppy dog eyes, and soon that baby was mine!) (Fun fact: When the car was on it's last leg in college and we traded it, the title was never changed out of my name...and somehow ended up in Florida in a small drug deal, that ol' girl saw some action in her time..) I once again had a stellar summer job, I was a park and rec leader for another small local town. A couple of my buddies from high school and I were the counselors, and had a gaggle of children we were in charge of 5 days a week from 9-5. Looking back on it, I don't really know why I thought that summer job was a good idea for me. I could never really tolerate children. Mostly I wanted to sedate them. But I was outside all summer long, again working with my friends, and it was tolerable.
August came way too fast. The night before I left for college I don't think I had ever cried so hard (at least up to that point) in my life. My friends and I decided we were going to go bowling...and I don't think any one of us had too much fun. I was the first of my posse to leave, and finally, the inevitable was upon us, we were growing up. We would never again just drop by someone's house unannounced, see each other every day, nothing would ever be as easy, as it had been up to that point. During a philosophical night by a bonfire that summer, somebody said something to the effect of: In the next 10 years we're supposed to go to college, graduate, get a job, find a spouse and start a family...Uff da. (Yup, had to go Norwegian on you just then.) That was a lot to wrap our little 18 year old heads around. Apparently, for me, it's still a bit much, as I'm a bit light on the spouse/child aspect. Hope to remain light on the child aspect forever...but that's for another post..
I'm not sure how I got home that night, as I think cried the whole way, and could barely see the road. Unbeknownst to me, my parents had been doing their fair share of crying that evening as well. Being the good daughter that I was, I had left all the packing to the last minute and left them with piles of things to load into the car while I was having an emotional crossroads at the bowling alley. Mom had sent dad upstairs to grab the last few things, and after a time she noticed he hadn't come back down. She went up to find him sitting on the end of my bed, holding a picture crying. He looked at mom and said, "I don't think we can let her go.."
The morning came early...as did the tears. The ride to college was a silent one. I remember coming down the hill and seeing the beautiful campus, and just wanting to turn around. By the time I got out of the car it was mid morning, sunny, and hot. Roughly 89 degrees with humidity to match. I had decided I needed to buck up, this new college world was in need of Radke. So I did what any 18 year old does when their parents are trying to be helpful: turned the attitude up a few notches. Which was easy to do because I was nervous, and it was hot as Hades. I went about bossing my parents around, snipping at them for this or that, had lunch with them, did some orientation, while they had something to attend, and finally, it was about 5:00pm. The school was serving a big BBQ for the families before the parents took off. I sat down with my plate of beans, chips and a hamburger, watered down lemonade, and finally took at the beautiful campus. It's nestled in the bluffs of the Mississippi River Valley, old and new buildings were surrounding us as we ate our dinner making small talk...and me, mostly looking at my future classmates sizing them and judging them accordingly. Then, before I had time to control it, the heat, the lack of sleep, the moving, this big life change hit me all at once. My eyes welled up with the tears for the first time since I got to campus, I looked at my parents and in a quivering voice said, "Can I just go home? I don't think I want to be here." Dad let out a belly laugh, and continued eating his burger. Mom, in her all knowing, motherly, way said: "Megan, honey...we just spent this entire day moving you into that dorm, I am sweating through my clothes, I just want to go home, get a beer and go to bed. You are staying in the God damn dorm room not only tonight, but at least until Christmas!" Shit. I was stuck there.
That night I took a cold shower, and was fast asleep by 11:00pm. The next day I kind of felt like a new woman. Things went so fast the first week, I forgot to call my parents and tell them I was okay, they had to call me and make sure I was in one piece, I couldn't help it, I had a new audience to entertain. My roomie was interesting. While we had very little in common, she did respect my things, and space, as I did hers. I was just wanting everything to go smoothly, so whatever I could do to avoid confrontation I did..and it worked out fairly well. I quickly decided I needed to get involved in activities. I joined the student senate, choir, I auditioned and got a part in the fall play, and took a full course load of credits. To say I was a little over extended was an understatement. Not to mention, I was meeting all of these fabulous people and being introduced to college life. Looking back, I treated that first year of college (and years to come) as a big party with a $20,000 cover charge. If I were to do it over again, I probably would have studied a little more, and partied a little less, but hindsight is always 20/20.
That first semester I was declared as a theatre major. Thing is, real theatre majors are a little bit intense. They had me scared out of the department by the end of the semester, and I was onto major #2 in January. Turns out, I had to go through 2 more majors after that before I decided what was going to be my final major, English Literature. I didn't declare that until my Junior year. Which was probably a good thing, considering I was going to be pushing my limits in the English department...soon they were going to meet Megan E. Radke: future blogger...
The summer of 2000 sped by. Jay Z's song Big Pimpin' was the song blaring out of my 1989 Pontiac Sunbird convertible. (Oh yeah, forgot to mention that little tid bit, for my senior year dad said I needed a fun little car. I saw that beat up convertible on a used car lot in passing one day, and even though it had 160,000 miles on it, dad couldn't resist my puppy dog eyes, and soon that baby was mine!) (Fun fact: When the car was on it's last leg in college and we traded it, the title was never changed out of my name...and somehow ended up in Florida in a small drug deal, that ol' girl saw some action in her time..) I once again had a stellar summer job, I was a park and rec leader for another small local town. A couple of my buddies from high school and I were the counselors, and had a gaggle of children we were in charge of 5 days a week from 9-5. Looking back on it, I don't really know why I thought that summer job was a good idea for me. I could never really tolerate children. Mostly I wanted to sedate them. But I was outside all summer long, again working with my friends, and it was tolerable.
August came way too fast. The night before I left for college I don't think I had ever cried so hard (at least up to that point) in my life. My friends and I decided we were going to go bowling...and I don't think any one of us had too much fun. I was the first of my posse to leave, and finally, the inevitable was upon us, we were growing up. We would never again just drop by someone's house unannounced, see each other every day, nothing would ever be as easy, as it had been up to that point. During a philosophical night by a bonfire that summer, somebody said something to the effect of: In the next 10 years we're supposed to go to college, graduate, get a job, find a spouse and start a family...Uff da. (Yup, had to go Norwegian on you just then.) That was a lot to wrap our little 18 year old heads around. Apparently, for me, it's still a bit much, as I'm a bit light on the spouse/child aspect. Hope to remain light on the child aspect forever...but that's for another post..
I'm not sure how I got home that night, as I think cried the whole way, and could barely see the road. Unbeknownst to me, my parents had been doing their fair share of crying that evening as well. Being the good daughter that I was, I had left all the packing to the last minute and left them with piles of things to load into the car while I was having an emotional crossroads at the bowling alley. Mom had sent dad upstairs to grab the last few things, and after a time she noticed he hadn't come back down. She went up to find him sitting on the end of my bed, holding a picture crying. He looked at mom and said, "I don't think we can let her go.."
The morning came early...as did the tears. The ride to college was a silent one. I remember coming down the hill and seeing the beautiful campus, and just wanting to turn around. By the time I got out of the car it was mid morning, sunny, and hot. Roughly 89 degrees with humidity to match. I had decided I needed to buck up, this new college world was in need of Radke. So I did what any 18 year old does when their parents are trying to be helpful: turned the attitude up a few notches. Which was easy to do because I was nervous, and it was hot as Hades. I went about bossing my parents around, snipping at them for this or that, had lunch with them, did some orientation, while they had something to attend, and finally, it was about 5:00pm. The school was serving a big BBQ for the families before the parents took off. I sat down with my plate of beans, chips and a hamburger, watered down lemonade, and finally took at the beautiful campus. It's nestled in the bluffs of the Mississippi River Valley, old and new buildings were surrounding us as we ate our dinner making small talk...and me, mostly looking at my future classmates sizing them and judging them accordingly. Then, before I had time to control it, the heat, the lack of sleep, the moving, this big life change hit me all at once. My eyes welled up with the tears for the first time since I got to campus, I looked at my parents and in a quivering voice said, "Can I just go home? I don't think I want to be here." Dad let out a belly laugh, and continued eating his burger. Mom, in her all knowing, motherly, way said: "Megan, honey...we just spent this entire day moving you into that dorm, I am sweating through my clothes, I just want to go home, get a beer and go to bed. You are staying in the God damn dorm room not only tonight, but at least until Christmas!" Shit. I was stuck there.
That night I took a cold shower, and was fast asleep by 11:00pm. The next day I kind of felt like a new woman. Things went so fast the first week, I forgot to call my parents and tell them I was okay, they had to call me and make sure I was in one piece, I couldn't help it, I had a new audience to entertain. My roomie was interesting. While we had very little in common, she did respect my things, and space, as I did hers. I was just wanting everything to go smoothly, so whatever I could do to avoid confrontation I did..and it worked out fairly well. I quickly decided I needed to get involved in activities. I joined the student senate, choir, I auditioned and got a part in the fall play, and took a full course load of credits. To say I was a little over extended was an understatement. Not to mention, I was meeting all of these fabulous people and being introduced to college life. Looking back, I treated that first year of college (and years to come) as a big party with a $20,000 cover charge. If I were to do it over again, I probably would have studied a little more, and partied a little less, but hindsight is always 20/20.
That first semester I was declared as a theatre major. Thing is, real theatre majors are a little bit intense. They had me scared out of the department by the end of the semester, and I was onto major #2 in January. Turns out, I had to go through 2 more majors after that before I decided what was going to be my final major, English Literature. I didn't declare that until my Junior year. Which was probably a good thing, considering I was going to be pushing my limits in the English department...soon they were going to meet Megan E. Radke: future blogger...
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