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The mass on my desk was beginning to pulsate, taking on a life of its own. Hundreds of tiny legs began to emerge, disentangling, disengaging, apparently seeking a way out. At least five grasshoppers had already hopped off my desk and were making a clean getaway across the office floor. Several groggy beetles were zigzagging in random patterns across the surface of my desk; one was obligingly headed toward the sorting trays to my right. A few mayflies were literally trying to rise above it all.

“Dang! The lab didn’t use enough carbon ‘tet’ again this morning,” I muttered to the slowly shrinking mass in front of me. My job had just become messier and more physical than usual. Bugs are much easier to count and sort when they are dead. I was glad that I had worn an older dress to work, but slacks would have been even better for crawling around the room on my hands and knees to round up my hopping, crawling, scurrying escapees.

No, this was not the summer job from hell. In fact, even on the days that I had to chase down my prey, I loved the summers I worked for the Bureau of Entomology, Plant Pest Control.

We set up a lighted trap outside our field offices to attract and collect insects during the night; its collection bag was brought inside each morning. During the peak infestation time, the full bag could weigh more than five pounds. It was then injected with a lethal dose of pesticide before dumping the supposedly dead contents onto my desk.

My job included sorting, counting, and tabulating the insects brought in each morning, particularly focusing on the grasshoppers. I was also on the alert for any appearance of the dreaded Japanese beetle, and any other potentially serious infestation problems.

In many small Idaho towns during the early 1960’s, summer jobs for high school and college girls were usually limited to babysitting, serving hamburgers and milkshakes at the local drive-in, or hoeing beans. I felt extremely fortunate to be crawling on my hands and knees chasing insects around the office, a job more to my liking.

As my son, nephew and niece set out on their own summer job searches, I remember my own experiences. I am surprised at the impact my summer jobs have had on my life. While my years of babysitting helped me welcome my own babies with confidence, applying for summer jobs introduced me to the reality of the competitive job market.

I remember my first job application form. It seemed to be intentionally vague and confusing; I filled it out with the same stomach-churning intensity that I saved for a final exam. Instead of a grade, however, I was awarded an excruciating job interview. I also learned a lot about rejection. You develop a tough hide.

“Remember, Karen, it must not only BE clean, it must LOOK clean,” the motel manager’s voice still reminds me from 30 years ago as I take another swipe at the hard-water deposits around my bathroom faucets. Besides training in cleaning techniques, my summer job as a motel maid also provided as much education in human behavior as most psychology classes—but that’s another story.

Summer jobs allowed me to explore and become more confident in my own capabilities and potential. Also, I became more aware of the diversity of jobs needed to run our community, while developing a greater appreciation for the people who do them. Most summer jobs are just that—they last a summer, but what you learn can last a lifetime.

By the way, the next time you see a grasshopper munching on your garden or hopping in your fields, please catch it and check to see if Melanoplus Sanguinipes is back.