Intention Not Direction

I worked my way through high school and college. Most of my early jobs were service oriented. The throughline, which continues to this day, is that I was always deliberate and intentional with where I applied to be hired. It could not be just about the money. It had to be in service to a greater why. I had to have an honest answer to “Why work here?” and it couldn’t be “Because they pay the best”. My time and energy were too valuable to invest otherwise. I had to make money to pay the rent, that was an absolute truth. But I knew I could go about it on my own terms, and I knew the rewards would be bigger than money.

Here are some examples of how that showed up.

ARCATA TUXEDO

This menswear boutique and tuxedo rental shop was located in the Jacoby’s Storehouse, right on the Arcata Plaza. The building was appealing to me because it was historic, and it was community integrated. I wanted to be in that space, I wanted to go to the Plaza every day. I wanted breakfast at Los Bagels around the corner and to get my bulk goods from the co-op, but mostly I wanted that community. I knew that my classmates would pass through there at prom season and that would give me other chances at social connection. And because the Jacoby’s Storehouse was home to other retail shops, restaurants, and mysteries to be explored, I wanted in. I filled out an application in person. And then I followed up over the phone, once a month maybe, until the owner, Carla, finally said “Come on in. I have a spot for you”. Carla introduced me to the inner workings of small business, money management, merchandising, working with vendors, and supporting events. It was my first foray into the wild ride of customer service, navigating expectations for peoples’ big moments, deeply learning that small acts of service, even when ultimately done for a paycheck, have a massive impact on other lives. Fail to have suits ready on time for a wedding party and the emotional consequence ripples outward, affecting expectations and plans. And they ripple inward, affecting nervous systems – theirs and mine. If my intention for why I was doing the work was greater than just a paycheck, then I could show up fully for the service that was needed.

THE JACOBY’S STOREHOUSE

I went on to work at several of the other businesses in the building. Bon Boniere was next door to the tux shop, so I would hop from my shift hemming and steaming rentals, to making milkshakes from small batch ice cream. There were two sister restaurants, plus catering, in the building. I became the hostess for Abruzzi downstairs, Arcata’s fine Italian dining. And I worked catering events and odd jobs for Plaza Grill, the third floor family restaurant that peered down upon the main floor of the building through a central opening. So if I was folding cloth napkins for Plaza Grill, I could also be waving from the mezzanine to Carla down below in Arcata Tuxedo. It was a hustle and bustle and a stitching together of service shifts to make ends meet. The community energy carried me through my first year of college, which was at the time as an English major at Humboldt State University.

RETHINKING RETAIL

I relocated to Portland to take a pause. I planted myself in a quaint community quadrant that was walkable and applied for a retail job at Restoration Hardware. They were familiar. They were founded in Eureka, CA and the original store in Old Town was where my friends and I would daydream through the shop’s glimpses of homes we might one day have. I stood on my feet and pointed people to drawer pulls and books about bungalow style. I was happy for them that they were outfitting their dream homes. Meanwhile I bought bagels, plain and dry, for lunch. They were only forty cents. I walked up the trendy, highly shoppable avenue and found another retail job at a small boutique called Girlfriends. The boutique was windowed on two full sides, flanked by leafy oaks, with a coffee shop, a bakery, an imports store, and a classic toy store as neighbors. I walked through the doors of Girlfriends and felt the natural light brighten my spirit. I handed the owner my resume and she quickly glanced at it, rolled it into a tube, and then sat me down for a chat. She offered me $10 an hour, which was better than my job up the avenue hawking bougie hardware. I could work on this delightful community corner at Girlfriends and go back to school to get some kind of degree. I could never have afforded the items in the boutique if I didn’t get a substantial employee discount, but I loved how the owner, Susan, carefully curated the space. She was in love with the experience of welcoming in old friends, and friends she hadn’t met yet. She created a space to be together. She introduced me to country music and to Sam Cooke and Pink Martini. She helped show people how beautiful they are, she showed me that service could be colorful and playful, and that a sparkly pink t-shirt could be an opportunity to connect meaningfully with another human.

GRATUITY

I’m a big believer that everyone should spend time in the service industry where the work is happening in the moment and tips are earned. It’s such a relevant practice of non-attachment, of living without expectation. Because even if you deliver prompt, friendly service, go above and beyond, and connect on an honest, authentic level with the chaps on the other side of the bar, they might still very well stiff you when it comes time to cash out. So do it for more than the paycheck. Do it for more than the tips. Do it for the conversation, for the practice of being present and listening, for the connection with humans you might not otherwise meet. Do it for the chance to work with food, to de-mystify where food comes from and how it’s prepared and served. Do it for the chance to develop portable, transferable life skills. Do it for the friendships you’ll make over post-shift downloads about the regulars, the anomalies, and the pub softball game on Sunday.

I chose to work for McMenamins for the flexibility around my school schedule, and for their reputation at the time as a locally-sourced, arts-focused chain of brewpubs and theater venues. McMenamins created community living rooms, and offered employees the opportunity to lean into curiosity, train in all of the restaurant’s roles, and grow with the company. I swapped out kegs, shook up pink Cosmos, wanked fries (technical term), worked the grill, and served tables. Food service was an embodied practice at being present, keeping that tray aloft, balanced with cajun tots, pitchers of Hammerhead, and too many ramekins of ranch dressing, while being shouted down by three other tables for refills of RC Cola. The tips were shared. Each role in the restaurant equally vital in meeting expectations, and maximizing moments. Shared gratuity and shared gratitude led to friends for life. And the opportunity to lean in and grow led to me serving as an assistant manager for one of their downtown pubs, and then as an events manager for one of their venues. It was there where I would continue the practices of relationship management, helping create and deliver upon big moments, time and team management, and shared gratuity. And it was there too where I would discover that integrity meant sometimes setting boundaries, and even walking away in order to reset intentions when the job situation was no longer in service to this one luscious life of mine.

Present day Kelli is pretty similar to 1994 Kelli. Still climbing trees. Still in overalls. And still intentional with how I shine this little light of mine. Photo by my big sister.