I was smug when I announced to my friends at high school that I had finally gotten a job.
And not just any job – a cool one. I was working at the cinema, a bus ride from my school in Perth’s suburbs. And what’s more, my best friend Jess was going to be working there too.
Working at the cinema felt cooler than working at the supermarket or a fast-food chain.Credit: iStock
Most of my friends, or frenemies depending on the hour, were working at the checkout of their local supermarket or in the drive-through at one of the fast-food restaurants. The cinema seemed like a distinct step up from that.
“I only have to pay $2 for a ticket,” I bragged to them in home room. “And $4 for a friend!” In the competitive world of high school, I felt my popularity stock rising.
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That was also true in literal sense. When ranking your friendships on social media was still acceptable and encouraged, I’m pretty sure my new job helped me make into a few more Top 8 lists on Myspace. After all, who wouldn’t want to be friends with the girl that could get you cheap movie tickets?
And of course, I’d have Jess there too. It would be less daunting, and I’d have someone to share the experience of it all with.
We had applied at the same time, bravely asking the tall, freckled manager for an application form after our film finished one afternoon when we’d gone to the movies to escape the heat. Then, at home and over MSN Messenger, we planned out what to write on our applications and double-checked they weren’t too similar.
But the job was harder than I’d expected, not least because of the hours. During the week, I finished school just before 3pm, which gave me just enough time to go home briefly to change into my uniform, and then be on the bus to work where I wouldn’t finish until 10pm. My homework, which was done last minute anyway, languished in my backpack.
