What was your first job?

What was your first job?

Mine was: Children’s Shoe Fitter.

Peak season was now, Back to School, the retail Olympics of tantrums, tears and shiny patent shoes.

At 15, thankfully I didn’t have children.

But I had feet, and the experience of never getting the shiny Magic Steps shoes I wanted because of practicality and price. I had no training in sales, service or stocktake, but there I was, disguised as a competent salesperson.

There was lots I couldn’t do yet, but I could connect with people.

I could sense a tantrum negotiation with a stressed-out parent by how they perched in the crowded fitting area, queue ticket clutched in sweaty palms, waiting for their sentencing as ‘customer #46 please’.

I felt no imposterism about why grown-ups would entrust me with their children’s very first shoes for precious memories, or the right ones for playground scuffing.

And no fear about missing a sales quota.

I just focused on the people in front of me and learning.

Not every shift was fun. I was kicked in the face by a thrashing 4-year-old leg more than once.

But the job hooked me.

Not with the thrill of topping the leaderboard for polish sales, or the excitement of using the hi-tech measuring machine (though it was my favourite part of the shop as a kid and an employee). And certainly not the monotonous hunt for a missing left 5F in the stockroom shelves.

It hooked me with the joy on parents’ faces as they completed one more obstacle in the pre-school assault course, knowing I had in some way made it easier for them and more fun for the child.

I was engaged. What I needed to do was measurable, I understood relevance of how my job mattered. But when I left that role it was partly because the supermarket paid more, but also because to the manager I was irrelevant.

They knew nothing about me, had no curiosity about how I was their best weekend seller, and often didn’t even say good morning. I’m sure they were consumed with ‘important boss’ responsibilities, but without realising it they taught me my first lesson in engagement.

It’s so true (albeit over-quoted) from Maya Angelou, that people never remember what you said or did, but how you made them feel.

Engagement isn’t about shoe polish sales, targets, free pizza or five star surveys.

It’s about feeling seen, not anonymous.

I like the back to school time reminder that we were all that kid in our first job at some point. And timely, as a parent this week, I’m going to try and remember what it was like to be the kid on the receiving end of the school uniform negotiation.

If you’re in these back to school trenches, I wish you patience, perspective and a child who can put their shoes on the right feet by untying the laces first.

And for your first job, I hope your uniform was better than my one-remember as parents when you take those ritualistic photos outside the door, these embarrassing photos live forever!