Sounds so interesting, but with summer grandparenting of four and rewriting I won’t have time for this in my life right now. However, I really like the idea of our own work as a starting place for creativity. You hold within you such a wealth of writing, Alison. So very much appreciated.
Margie, let me know when you've finished a piece, and want to post it. Send to me as an email, and I'll pop it into the "workshop" to share with those signed up for that Unschool space.
I'll post one of my own-as an example--in the next few weeks (early July) and we can discuss further, share questions and more.
Should be fun! I'm looking forward to seeing what turns up.
Jun 15, 2023·edited Jun 15, 2023Liked by Alison Acheson
Great idea!
1st thing came to mind was story I told my mom recently.
So some of you have likely seen Translink cop Anne talk on tv. I won’t say her last name but add it for flavour. So I was 19 and I worked with her kid at a bougie Richmond restaurant called Jimm’s on Three. Yes bougie and Richmond seem anathema. At the time, late 80s not too much bougie around Richmond. Local bar was called Juliana’s but really we called it Herpeanas.
So their kid, who I thought was 19 like me, asked me to a party at his house. And asked me to help him pick up booze a few hrs before our shift, then after our shift we were going to party. So we’re in liquor store. It was a lot of booze but hey house parties in Richmond were wild. So we’re in the aisles and his dad suddenly comes up to us (at the time both parents cops). He starts screaming, you’re only 17, then starts screaming at me. I tell him I didn’t know! Then I book it to work. He comes flying into my workplace (they were Friday regulars so everyone knew him). He reams me out in front of all the kitchen staff and my manager. I’m bawling. My manager, to his credit, hears me say I didn’t know, I thought kid was same age as me (I’d just turned 19, & I actually thought kid had said it was his 19 b day & he was of age). But cop daddy keeps screaming. My boss told him off which was amazing = long time regular customer, and rcmp to boot. We were scared of him when I think abt it. I started calming down and our chef put his arm around my shoulder, handed me a dish towel for my face. I felt so supported. Finally cop dad did calm down. He never apologized but by this time his kid was there and verified he’d lied to me. Kid did apologize, profusely. Sad thing? Wasn’t my first bad cop encounter and I was a kid who didn’t get into trouble, finished all my academics at 15. I’ll never forget my first time serving them that upcoming Friday, his wife she looked properly chagrined, but I’ll never forget the way he stubbed out his players, extra light, and I had to change out that ashtray with that angry, angry stub of a cigarette. And I thought to myself: misdirected anger is so volatile I’ll never forget that lesson and I’ll never forget the support, my manager and the chef and the other kitchen staff gave me that day, the smell of the pasta burning, I think it was fettuccine.
I laughed with the specificity of that fettuccine at the end. And also “that angry, angry stub of a cigarette” is pretty great too.
I like the steamroller style of narration, where the reader is just plunged into the story without much context. There’s precedent for that. For some reason it brought to mind Eudora Welty’s famous story, which she tells in a kind of dialect (Mississippi) and without any setup puts us into the world of the postmistress narrator’s strange family:
SO much here, Cathleen. Having the manager stand up for you, yes! (One lied for me once...) All the dynamics of "authority" and cops, (and marriage with one!) and those teen years. The dish towel for your tears! Had to laugh about the 80s/bougie/Richmond. Richmond was farm-land back in the day...
Wow - impressive that the 17 year old profusely apologized! "Serving them.." people think waitresses are stupid, but in fact they (we, I've been one) are brave, diplomatic. Interesting that the wife looked chagrined. And lordy lordy, a manager who supported!!!!! In my experience that doesn't happen.
Oh, lordy, lordy...so many jobs....one story that isn't mine that sticks in my mind is the summer I was a gardener at the Algonquin Hotel in St. Andrews, NB. First thing in the am the men and I sat around for a few minutes assigning tasks and talking. Being the only woman I listened. There are red ants in St. Andrews, their pee burning like fire. One morning the guys reminded one gardener how he had been clearing out a back garden in the spring when he disturbed a nest of those red ants, who instantly swarmed up his legs, burning the whole way. He tore off his pants and ran across the entire grounds of the hotel pantless to the gardeners' shed. I'll also never forget - or maybe I will because I've now forgotten which show - that he was on HeeHaw, or the Don Messer Show, and was now a gardener giving behind the scenes this female a hard time, as they all did.
Your prompts and questions are plenty for a book. I, too, wonder why there's not more on work stories or narratives about moving through a profession, from degree, to apprentice, to multiple promotions or lateral moves, to mastery, and then to mentoring the next generation wanting to be you--to go into the profession you chose and lived. My big question is what to do with all of this knowledge about 600 different professions? Who cares? What makes it a hot, great read?
I'm counting on your writing and articles for clues to that monster question, which is my elephant in the room.
I laugh at articles about "finding topics to write about" and instead deeply wonder why would anyone want to read about work stories when they stop their work on order to put attention to your articles for inspiration, awe, or whimsey?
Inspiration, awe, whimsey...starting places! And we'll go on from there.
Georgia, are you okay with me copy/pasting your Elephant here in the next post? (With credit, of course!) I'd like to do that; it's an excellent question.
I'm counting on your Alison to help me see my way out of this forest. I know I have more to write about than a lifetime of articles and books can handle. I think I could blow the numbers off Substack with my knowledge, thousands of interviews, thousands of pages of notes, and passion for professionalism and exceptionally talented adults. I haven't found the WHY for the reader. Oh, hell, I'm fascinated by all of this, but would anyone else be?
Sounds so interesting, but with summer grandparenting of four and rewriting I won’t have time for this in my life right now. However, I really like the idea of our own work as a starting place for creativity. You hold within you such a wealth of writing, Alison. So very much appreciated.
Keep in mind you can always post something down the line. I know you're busy.
I always so appreciate your community spirit, Sheryl--thank you!
I've always done handwork. I've never thought of how this connects to my writing. Intriguing. When should I turn something in?
Margie, let me know when you've finished a piece, and want to post it. Send to me as an email, and I'll pop it into the "workshop" to share with those signed up for that Unschool space.
I'll post one of my own-as an example--in the next few weeks (early July) and we can discuss further, share questions and more.
Should be fun! I'm looking forward to seeing what turns up.
My email is alison@alisonacheson.com
Thanks.
Great idea!
1st thing came to mind was story I told my mom recently.
So some of you have likely seen Translink cop Anne talk on tv. I won’t say her last name but add it for flavour. So I was 19 and I worked with her kid at a bougie Richmond restaurant called Jimm’s on Three. Yes bougie and Richmond seem anathema. At the time, late 80s not too much bougie around Richmond. Local bar was called Juliana’s but really we called it Herpeanas.
So their kid, who I thought was 19 like me, asked me to a party at his house. And asked me to help him pick up booze a few hrs before our shift, then after our shift we were going to party. So we’re in liquor store. It was a lot of booze but hey house parties in Richmond were wild. So we’re in the aisles and his dad suddenly comes up to us (at the time both parents cops). He starts screaming, you’re only 17, then starts screaming at me. I tell him I didn’t know! Then I book it to work. He comes flying into my workplace (they were Friday regulars so everyone knew him). He reams me out in front of all the kitchen staff and my manager. I’m bawling. My manager, to his credit, hears me say I didn’t know, I thought kid was same age as me (I’d just turned 19, & I actually thought kid had said it was his 19 b day & he was of age). But cop daddy keeps screaming. My boss told him off which was amazing = long time regular customer, and rcmp to boot. We were scared of him when I think abt it. I started calming down and our chef put his arm around my shoulder, handed me a dish towel for my face. I felt so supported. Finally cop dad did calm down. He never apologized but by this time his kid was there and verified he’d lied to me. Kid did apologize, profusely. Sad thing? Wasn’t my first bad cop encounter and I was a kid who didn’t get into trouble, finished all my academics at 15. I’ll never forget my first time serving them that upcoming Friday, his wife she looked properly chagrined, but I’ll never forget the way he stubbed out his players, extra light, and I had to change out that ashtray with that angry, angry stub of a cigarette. And I thought to myself: misdirected anger is so volatile I’ll never forget that lesson and I’ll never forget the support, my manager and the chef and the other kitchen staff gave me that day, the smell of the pasta burning, I think it was fettuccine.
I was 19 not 29!
I laughed with the specificity of that fettuccine at the end. And also “that angry, angry stub of a cigarette” is pretty great too.
I like the steamroller style of narration, where the reader is just plunged into the story without much context. There’s precedent for that. For some reason it brought to mind Eudora Welty’s famous story, which she tells in a kind of dialect (Mississippi) and without any setup puts us into the world of the postmistress narrator’s strange family:
https://art-bin.com/art/or_weltypostoff.html
That might be a style to continue with if you expand this into a longer story.
SO much here, Cathleen. Having the manager stand up for you, yes! (One lied for me once...) All the dynamics of "authority" and cops, (and marriage with one!) and those teen years. The dish towel for your tears! Had to laugh about the 80s/bougie/Richmond. Richmond was farm-land back in the day...
Wow - impressive that the 17 year old profusely apologized! "Serving them.." people think waitresses are stupid, but in fact they (we, I've been one) are brave, diplomatic. Interesting that the wife looked chagrined. And lordy lordy, a manager who supported!!!!! In my experience that doesn't happen.
I have so many to choose from.
A lovely 'problem' to have! I look forward to reading!
Oh, lordy, lordy...so many jobs....one story that isn't mine that sticks in my mind is the summer I was a gardener at the Algonquin Hotel in St. Andrews, NB. First thing in the am the men and I sat around for a few minutes assigning tasks and talking. Being the only woman I listened. There are red ants in St. Andrews, their pee burning like fire. One morning the guys reminded one gardener how he had been clearing out a back garden in the spring when he disturbed a nest of those red ants, who instantly swarmed up his legs, burning the whole way. He tore off his pants and ran across the entire grounds of the hotel pantless to the gardeners' shed. I'll also never forget - or maybe I will because I've now forgotten which show - that he was on HeeHaw, or the Don Messer Show, and was now a gardener giving behind the scenes this female a hard time, as they all did.
Your prompts and questions are plenty for a book. I, too, wonder why there's not more on work stories or narratives about moving through a profession, from degree, to apprentice, to multiple promotions or lateral moves, to mastery, and then to mentoring the next generation wanting to be you--to go into the profession you chose and lived. My big question is what to do with all of this knowledge about 600 different professions? Who cares? What makes it a hot, great read?
I'm counting on your writing and articles for clues to that monster question, which is my elephant in the room.
I laugh at articles about "finding topics to write about" and instead deeply wonder why would anyone want to read about work stories when they stop their work on order to put attention to your articles for inspiration, awe, or whimsey?
Inspiration, awe, whimsey...starting places! And we'll go on from there.
Georgia, are you okay with me copy/pasting your Elephant here in the next post? (With credit, of course!) I'd like to do that; it's an excellent question.
I'm counting on your Alison to help me see my way out of this forest. I know I have more to write about than a lifetime of articles and books can handle. I think I could blow the numbers off Substack with my knowledge, thousands of interviews, thousands of pages of notes, and passion for professionalism and exceptionally talented adults. I haven't found the WHY for the reader. Oh, hell, I'm fascinated by all of this, but would anyone else be?
Georgia, one piece at a time and why it fascinates you.