I have only fainted once, to my recollection.
One of my first jobs was through our church high school. Out of the workers who came to work in her horse pastures, she liked my work ethic the best, and so I had a summer job.
It was a long drive, but I didn’t mind. “Doesn’t it bug you that you have to spend part of your paycheck for gas money?” asked the mom of one of my gal friends. Her daughter had had a job since she was fifteen, and it was local. It didn’t bug me, wasting that money. I loved working outdoors. I can still smell the scent of the weeds I pulled, fresh and sharp. I loved driving out past the alpaca fields, blushing with purple camas.
It was tiring work though. I worked anywhere from four to five hours at a time, and it was all manual labor. Since it was a horse pasture, it was surrounded by electric fence. I was pushing along a wheelbarrow and had just bent my head to fiddle with the lock on the fence. The next thing I remember was waking up on the ground. “Huh,” I thought, “Must have tripped.” But… I had blacked out. That’s when I realized I must have bumped the top of my head to the electric fence.
Well, it was better than swooning over some boy, I guess. I did trip once over a vacuum cord at church once though. But that’s another story.