My First Job part 1.
My family was always willing to finance my education. From the moment I entered secondary school, when university was still a distant idea, they would tell me that I would get there and that they would do whatever was necessary so that my only concern would be studying. There were no conditions beyond getting accepted; the degree itself did not matter.
Now, in my second year of History and Art History, they do not seem to have fully gone back on their promise, despite the resounding failure of my first year. Even so, it is impossible to ignore the financial burden of not only paying university tuition but also supporting another adult in a country where taxes have turned filling the fridge or the gas tank into a luxury, and making it to the end of the month without debt into an achievement.
I was never unaware of this reality. I felt the weight of my family’s sacrifice on my shoulders, and instead of motivating me, it began to suffocate me, and I eventually made a decision: I wanted to be financially independent. However I could.
So I began looking for a job wherever I might be useful. I avoided hospitality work even though there were openings, because it is a sector that demands both physical and social skills I simply do not have. I searched for babysitting jobs, dog grooming training, veterinary technician roles, cleaning services, supermarkets… And almost by accident, I stumbled upon thanatopraxy and mortuary cosmetology. A random click on an informational page about courses changed, I would say, the course of my life.
At first, the cost of the training and the doubts from my family and friends made me back off. But over the months, that seed began to sprout. My curiosity was intense and persistent, and nothing truly changed until my aunt offered to help finance the course and coordinate payments among several relatives. That arrangement did not work particularly well, but even so, I had already enrolled.
After months of online training, more self-taught than anything, and after submitting my final project, I was finally able to apply for an internship. The wait was surprisingly short. In the blink of an eye, I received an email: “On Saturday, report to the funeral home. Follow the dress code. The workday will be from Friday to Sunday, 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.”
So, as well-uniformed as I could manage, I showed up for my first job.