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COLUMN: It always feels like your first day on this job

While on maternity leave, PAN special features reporter Melissa Smalley details what life is like working the most demanding job of all.

I hadn’t been 14 for more than a few weeks when I marched into our neighbourhood McDonald’s, slid my scant resume across the counter and sheepishly asked for a job.

I’d been looking forward to getting a job since I first learned the concept of exchanging labour for money. And since two of my older brothers had already worked there, I thought the local Golden Arches would be a good place to start.

It was no easy gig – crazy lunch and dinner rushes, long hours on your feet and a steady stream of unpleasant tasks to be done. (Management’s favourite cringe-worthy saying was ‘If you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean.’)

The job also introduced me – at such a young and impressionable age – to a whole new faction of society from whom I’d previously been sheltered: jerks.

Throughout my four-year career moving up the ranks at McDonald’s, I had food thrown at me by irate customers, was harassed by drunk teenagers and was on the receiving end of several profanity-laced tirades from hungry folk who felt their fast food wasn’t being delivered quite fast enough.

It was a tough and sometimes unpleasant job, but it taught me how to work hard, multitask, take direction and, most importantly, deal with difficult people.

Those skills would be immensely valuable at my next few jobs –  an administrative assistant at a financial planning firm (in short, dealing with rich people and their money), tele-fundraiser for local charities (gimme a break, I was in college and the job was close to home), and most recently, special features reporter for Peace Arch News.

But none of the conflict-resolving or deadline-meeting would prepare me for the most difficult job life could throw at me: parenthood. More than eight months into this exciting new endeavour, I can say without a hint of hyperbole, being a parent is the toughest job out there.

Firstly, there is little to no training provided. Sure, you can read all the books and attend all the classes you want, but when you’re handed that squealing, squirming, little bundle, you have no idea what you’re doing.

Every day that you wake up (assuming you did actually get to sleep) is like your first day on the job over and over again. Just when you think you’ve mastered the art of getting your child to nap, your precious little cherub decides to go on a sleep strike.  The hours are insane – I’ve never heard of a job that requires you to work 24 hours a day, seven days a week. There’s no such thing as sleeping in on a Saturday or spending a lazy Sunday on the couch with a good book.

If you’re fortunate enough to have trustworthy family and friends nearby, you may be able to get a little break here and there, but let’s face it, most of the time spent away from baby is spent worrying about baby.

Which brings me to my next point: the emotional investment. Some people care deeply about their jobs and have a hard time leaving their work stress at work. But being responsible for this miraculous little life  – especially when you haven’t got a clue what you’re doing – can be more gut-wrenchingly stressful than anything I’ve ever experienced at work.

Top that off with torture-calibre sleep deprivation and a roller coaster of hormones, and you’ve got a recipe for the mother of all meltdowns.

If it sounds like I’m complaining, I’m really not. I love being on maternity leave, and have experienced the most awe-inspiring and humbling moments of my life over the past nine months. I’ve learned more about myself than I ever thought possible and have fallen head over heels in love with a blue-eyed little lady with her daddy’s devilish grin.

But there are some days I’d give anything to be asking, ‘would you like fries with that?’

Melissa Smalley is a Peace Arch News writer, due to return from maternity leave in January.