When Life Gives You Lemons, You Don’t Need to Make Lemonade

As my first year of university wrapped up, I scrambled to find work, because I hadn’t been proactive earlier with my job search.  I looked at job postings in a newspaper (yes, it was that long ago) and applied for one that caught my eye. After quickly applying, I met Jimmy, the owner of the company, for an interview.  He ended up offering me the position on the spot. What sealed it for him was his positive experience with his previous employee, who was a UBC student, like myself. Lucky me. I enthusiastically accepted.

It was a memorable summer job.  I worked long days but I took satisfaction in the effort I put into my role.  My boss was happy with my work and I had a sense of pride due to my accomplishments.

Over that summer, I learned:

??????? How to navigate interpersonal office politics with my co-workers

? How to articulate adherence to company rules, created for the safety of the customers

?? How to deal with disgruntled customers when their experience did not meet their expectations

I am able to reflect upon that summer with a sunny disposition. 25 years have given me perspective and privilege.  Perspectives derived from learning from inspiring colleagues and being challenged by supportive supervisors. Privilege born from experiences that were available to me, which led to building skills and developing a rich network of people to open up new opportunities.

But 25 years ago, I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I had completed first year science at UBC. I wanted to get into medical school (join the club). And as a first generation university student, I didn’t know how to look for the “right” jobs or internships.  I wish I could tell you that I was spending time networking and connecting about opportunities. I did none of that. I was focused on my studies. And then I realized I needed a job. And my priority for the summer was simple—?????? to help pay for next year’s schooling.

How desperate was I? I applied to anything. So what was that summer job I eventually took? The summer job that I wrote to sound like it was enriching (it was) and cool (it wasn’t) and that I chose to accept (it was the only offer I had).

The job? A full-time Go Cart track attendant.

The position required to start the go-cart motors, watch the customers race around an asphalt track, yell at them to keep their distance (social distancing!) and pull their karts back onto the course if they crashed. Also other duties as required.

Yes, that was the job. And I was embarrassed that this was the job I found as a university student, but financial need quickly trumped my pride. I was grateful to Jimmy for giving me full-time work.

A young Rob Kim (circled in red), first year university student, working at Richmond Go Cart in 1995

Because let’s face it. At that time, I had no mechanical experience. I didn’t like cars. I never did hard manual labour—closest association I had was reading a lab "manual". The only knowledge I possessed about go carts pertained to Mario Kart.  I was lucky to get the job. And my inexperience showed in the first few weeks when working alongside the other seasoned student employees. I had a lot to learn.

But I worked hard. And over that summer, I learned:

?? Expertise comes in many forms. I was impressed at how skilled the mechanic was maintaining all those go-carts. An expert problem solver.

???? Enduring physical labour. I worked outside in the summer heat, wearing jeans to protect my legs from burning on the go-cart engines, while pulling stacks of ten tires tied together—they were crash barriers. After that summer, my forearms never looked better.

?? Advocacy for myself. I had to enforce track rules with adults, because safety was important to me. (Also, I probably wanted to reduce crashes to reduce dragging those damn tires.)

Do I wish I had that fancy research opportunity for the summer? Yes. Would that have made a difference in my life? Maybe. But sometimes when life gives you lemons, do you have to make lemonade? No. Sometimes you don’t need to make any lemonade—you do what you need to do. That summer what I needed was a paying job. And sometimes, when you look back 25 years, you realize what you did was OK, and only now with hindsight can you make some lemonade.