‘My first job…’
Jane Broughton shares her first adventure away from home at a hotel in Newquay…
It was 1976 and I was 19 when, together with my best friend, I left Manchester to follow a dream of sun, surf and excitement. We’d managed to get jobs as live-in waitresses in a private hotel in Newquay and were sure that, after a bit of light plate-carrying, we’d be free to enjoy an extended paid holiday. How wrong were we!
We arrived after a sevenhour journey to be greeted by the head waitress, Ruby. I remember smiling happily at her, expecting a warm welcome and some refreshments. Instead she nodded curtly and told us to unpack in the hut out back then be ready for dinner service in an hour. She didn’t get any friendlier, either!
We soon realised that we were not in for any sort of a holiday. Our working day started at 6.30am and didn’t finish until after 10pm. There were just a few hours in the afternoon when we were free and by then, all we wanted was sleep.
As it was early season, most of the customers were pensioners enjoying the cheaper prices. We soon learned not to tie our aprons with a double knot as one elderly gentleman would amuse himself by untying our aprons as we bent over to serve. He would laugh every time he managed it – and we’d then get a large tip!
One afternoon my friend and I decided to pack a picnic and head off to the beach. What no one had warned us about were the extremely large, extremely feral, local seagulls which dive-bombed us! I could never watch the film The Birds afterwards… We were surprised when, after about six weeks, we were suddenly fired! The only reason given was that we were ‘too slow’ but we later found out no one ever made it to the promised ‘end-ofseason bonus’. My friend returned home, but I didn’t want the adventure to be over. I was put in touch with a man who played trumpet in jazz clubs, who was offering a room in his house in return for cooking him chips each evening – a strange arrangement but it suited us! I needed money so took a job as a typist but it didn’t take long for the novelty to wear off; I realised I was spending my days typing and cooking chips. It wasn’t the great adventure I’d hoped for and I started to feel homesick. After only a month I was back in Manchester. I learned a lot though – including how hard waitresses work! I finally started to grow up and appreciate, like Dorothy, ‘there’s no place like home’.
‘We soon realised we were not in for any sort of holiday’