Never going to sell yogurt again

Sandy floors that need to be mopped, fruit that needs to be chopped and machines that need to be filled. That is the glamorous life of a yogurt girl, and unfortunately for me, my current reality.
Ever since I lost my first tooth I’ve been saving up. So its no surprise that I’ve had a job since it was legal. My first job was probably one of the worst jobs in existence. I was a sign twirler. I was 12 years old and spun a bright yellow sign that was bigger than me for a local grocery store. From there I moved up, I started helping my dad out at the many restaurants he worked at, bussing and hosting. But I wanted more, I wanted a real salary, I wanted a car.
When I was 15, I made my resume, which consisted of the previously mentioned jobs along with babysitting and volunteer work. Unfortunately no one was hiring 15 year olds with no experience. I stuck out the year, and started my search for a job the next summer. I went to several interviews before applying at the frozen yogurt store down the street.
It didn’t take much effort for me to get the job. My boss loved me from the start and hired me despite the “over 18” rule. I started working full time and earned enough money to buy a car. When I started I assumed it would be a summer job only. However, the summer came to an end, and my career as a yogurt girl did not. I continued working at Yogurt Escape, not only because I realized that with a car comes the need for gas, but also because it became so comfortable to work there. After summer, I soon realized that working in a frozen yogurt store, at the beach, during winter, could get very boring. I spent hours alone, bored, and finding anything and everything to clean. I begged my friends to come visit me in exchange for a free yogurt. I entertained myself by doodling on receipts and making pictures with the m&m’s.
Soon, the weather got warmer and the Zonie’s started rolling in. New and unfortunately dull people were hired at the yogurt store, days and nights got busy and working at the yogurt store suddenly became difficult again. I started missing the days when I could sit around at work and not have to worry about the heaps of sand dirtying the floors or the hundreds of strawberries, kiwis, mangos, pineapples, and papayas I had to cut every day. Going to work became the hardest part of my day. I made envious conversation with people in swimsuits and counted the minutes until I was free from the colorful glass cage that held me inside the sweet filled store. In a flash summer turned into fall again, mini vans filled with little kids and sandy beach toys found there way through the traffic and out of La Jolla. Leaving me behind, with another lonely winter and another summer at Yogurt Escape. Sitting on a bright orange chair, eating birthday cake flavored yogurt and writing an essay just like this one. Hopefully one day I can honestly say that I am never going to sell yogurt again.


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