When I was thirteen years old, I got my first job. It was definitely not glamorous, nor, looking back, was it technically an official job since I got paid in cash. This job was picking strawberries (and, after strawberry season, picking raspberries and cutting garlic blooms. I remember smelling like garlic for a week!) at a local farm. In all honest, the employers were not great people -they would make us fill the pints way overflowing, sending us back out if it wasn't full enough for their liking, and then they'd take all the excess off and fill more quarts that they then didn't pay us for- but I got to work with my cousin and best friend Rachel, so it was fun. We liked feeling like grown ups, having a job, while still getting to hang out and have fun together.
After that summer, though, we both knew that we definitely did not want to go back there again the next year. We might have only been thirteen, but we knew enough that it wasn't exactly a good job. Thankfully, before the next summer was even close, we got hired on at a greenhouse owned by a family at our church.
We got our job at the greenhouse very, I'd say, accidentally. Our aunt was talking to the owner, T, and asked if they were looking for help, as she had 2 nieces looking for work. We were, in fact, NOT looking for work but hey, I guess Auntie B decided that we needed a job. T originally said no, but later "had a change of heart" and called me up to ask if we could come in the next day. See, T knew me fairly well because I had actually been her Sunday School helper for several years by that point.
And that is how my greenhouse life started. Just like that.
I'll be honest, I hated that job. It was fun at first -it was a job, it paid double what we had gotten at the strawberry farm, so we felt like millionaires, and we got to hang out while we worked. The work was seasonal, meaning that we worked Saturdays from January through May, and the occasional week in the summer. But it was enough that I never had to get another job during high school. After Rachel and I graduated from high school and started university, we ended up working at the greenhouse as our summer jobs. Mostly because it was the easy thing to do, since it was a guaranteed job. We never had to think about it or look for a job.
Then we graduated, and I went off to YWAM. And came back to work in the greenhouse for one last year. Which ended up being much more than that -I worked there full time up until August 20, 2020.
By the time I quit my job, I loved it. It wasn't perfect, but it was a place where I was completely comfortable, knowledgeable, and capable. I had my issues with the place, for sure -no workplace is perfect- but I loved the work, I loved the people, and I loved my position and responsibilities. I was management. I was trusted. I supervised, trained, and was often left in charge.
I knew that leaving would be hard.
I didn't realize HOW hard it would be.
It's been a year and a half since I quit my job at the greenhouse -where I had worked for over thirteen years. And I still miss it so, so much. I worked at a greenhouse here in Alberta last spring, and they were a great place. They actually contacted me around Christmas time offering me a full time, salaried position as a grower, but I turned them down. Because the truth is, I hated every second of working there. It had nothing to do with them; they were lovely people, my co-workers were lovely, and they paid well. But it was too similar to my old greenhouse. Every day, while at work, I was reminded of everything I had left. Of everything I had lost. Of everything I missed so, so much. I honestly went through the month of April almost crying at work every single day.
It's getting better. I have a new job, now. It's part time, working for a greenhouse. But this time, I don't work AT the greenhouse. They're based in BC, and I'm their contact at a couple of stores here in the Edmonton area. I go in and take inventory, and I am there when the delivery comes in each week to put the new product out for sale. I clean up the plants. I'm working with plants, which I love, but in a very different capacity and environment than I did before. So it's good. It is different enough that it doesn't make me miss my first greenhouse.
That doesn't mean that I don't miss my greenhouse. Because I do. So, so much. Distance has really opened my eyes more and more to the flaws and issues of my greenhouse, but I still love that place. I still love those people. I still miss it with a very deep ache.
I had a job that I genuinely truly loved. And losing it sucks.
Was marrying Raymond worth it? A hundred percent. But that doesn't mean that I don't wish it could be different. It doesn't mean it is always easy. It doesn't mean I don't miss my old life.
Blessings,
Katie
