How a Small-Town Gig Inspired Designer Jenny Bird’s Big Career Leap
As a teenager, jewellery designer Jenny Bird, whose ethically sourced wares have been seen on Michelle Obama and Selena Gomez, got one of the few available jobs in her small Ontario town. It meant working at a famous – and dangerous– gorge.
I grew up in Elora, Ont., which people know as a tourist destination now. But in 1992, there were 2,800 people and we didn’t even have a traffic light. All we had was the gorge. We used to ride inflated tractor tires down it – so much so that the park decided they had to regulate it because it was obviously so dangerous. That meant it was basically the one place for young people to find a job in Elora; you could work at campsites or you could be a lifeguard, or some combination of both.
My parents were farmers, so they worked hard and expected me to, too. If I wanted money, which I did so I could go to what I considered the height of fashion (the Gap outlet store in Buffalo), then I had to work. I’d washed pots – not dishes, just pots – in a restaurant before I could legally work at 16. Then, my dad drove me to the gorge to ask whether they were accepting résumés and I applied.
The gorge removed their liability by calling us “beach patrols” instead of lifeguards, which is good because I didn’t have any lifeguard skills and there was little training. I couldn’t be of much help if anyone jumped into the dark hole of a pit of water, so even though there were signs all over the gorge that said “no jumping,” my job was to mostly sit on a rock in the sun all day and tell people not to jump into the quarry.
I had a whistle to blow and I’d scream and yell “Don’t jump!” but people jumped anyway, all the time. I was skinny and I matured late and wore big glasses, so nobody was intimidated by me; I wasn’t a figure of authority by any means. When anyone jumped, I had to call the ranger and get them kicked out. At least I had these muscly rangers to come and enforce the rules. Most of the time, they’d just run into the woods to hide and get away.
The best thing about lifeguarding was when it was a rainy day, no one came. There was a little beach hut with a TV. I’d be earning my minimum wage to watch The Price is Right and do my nails. Other than that, it was a hard job, to be honest. Little kids got hurt all the time, so there was lots of first aid involved, and one day I actually had to jump in and save a man. This was in the gorge pond; I had to pull him out of the shallow end onto the beach. In that moment, I realized how serious the job was. I’m lucky nobody got hurt.
Elora was – and still is – a bit artsy and free. Nobody liked being told what to do and everyone mostly did whatever they wanted. Visitors knew this too, so every Friday night a gong show of people would arrive at the campsite. Lots of them were University of Windsor students with big plans to party in the park. This was the era of the Guns N’ Roses, Du Maurier cigarettes, Budweiser and pickup trucks. My friends and I would meet university boys and then stuff my bed to sneak out to visit their campsite. I’d draw them a map to my house and they’d come pick us up in their truck. I still don’t think my parents know, to be honest.
It was so fun to hang out with those university kids that it made me excited to go to university, too. The job helped me decide what to study: outdoor recreation, because I really did like the park ranger part of the job, plus I loved canoeing and being outside. I even jumped from the gorge one time myself – but only from halfway up, which I like to think is not so bad.
As told to Rosemary Counter
This article was first reported by The Globe and Mail
