Sears Portrait Studio

When I was senior in college, I passed on doing the final show of my college career in order to get a job and save some money to move to Chicago and become a star. From March until September I managed to save $600, which paid the deposit and first month's rent on the one-bedroom apartment my friend Tom and I shared. After that, I was broke.

But I had one thing that Tom did not. I had a job. You see, I landed a job at Sears Portrait Studio in Des Moines, and somehow they agreed to transfer me to Chicago. I told them I needed to be at the Sears closest to the downtown area, and that ended up being in Niles. It took ninety minutes to get there and nearly two hours to get home. All for about seven dollars an hour. I kept that job just long enough for Tom to get a job, and then I went looking.

But I remember my first day at the studio in Des Moines. All of the poses were prescribed. As a photographer you were not allowed to deviate from the poses. The job was to snap the shot just as the smile began to appear on the face, or as it began to relax. It was a week before I was allowed to snap a shot. I was only allowed to stand and watch Jane.

Jane was a music major at Drake, and I think she might have been a class behind me. She was a magical soprano and quite heavy. Jane thought of the studio as a gig to get her through school. The other people we worked with thought of it as a career. I fell smack dab in the middle of the spectrum. I knew it wasn't my life, but I needed the job and wanted to do a good job.

I was so nervous when I took the pictures of the first little girl, I literally shook. She was about four years old and all blond curls and pink ruffles. I had to pick her up to put her on the posing table. Her mother was already positioned beside the table to keep her from falling. I wanted to make the little girl like me, and when I picked her up I tickled her and gave her a little shake. She giggled, so I swung her up in the air.

And put her head right through the ceiling.

It was a suspended ceiling and all I did was dislodge one of the particle-board tiles. The mother laughed and the little girl liked me enough not to think I might be trying to kill her. Jane, who was observing, had to excuse herself from the room and you could hear her shrieking with laughter as she waddled down the hall.

The shoot went fine, I suppose. I don't remember. But I remember that after that shoot Jane sat me down and told me that I shouldn't try so hard. It was a couple of weeks, but eventually I became the best photographer in the studio. And I was the top sales person, selling extra pictures and little plastic charms with the pictures inside.

I wish I'd learned Jane's lesson sooner, and I wish it had stuck. Trying too hard is really what gets me into so much trouble.

In addition to finishing my first dry run at the potential business I might start up, tomorrow I have a second interview for a serious job. Keep your fingers crossed!