I am fascinated by friends’ terrible job stories. These awful jobs are so formative to our lives, and I think they help make us who we are. Let’s a have a ridiculous conversation about your terrible job with the best stories. It could be recent or past.
Mine:
I worked as a waitress in a 24 hour diner. It was called Sambo’s, which is all kinds of wrong.
I had a boss named Julian with a big gap in his teeth. He constantly harassed me to go out with him. One day I told him what I thought of him and he put me on graveyard shift for a few weeks.
One night at about 3 am, I was shortchanged by a classic old school con artist. I got in trouble with Julian, even though I felt it wasn’t my fault. He docked my pay and kept me on graveyard shift even longer.
I went in to work stoned one day and had a very difficult time functioning. One, everything everyone ordered seemed ridiculous. Someone ordered chicken fried steak and I fell apart laughing. Two, well, I was stoned for the first and last time.
Lessons learned: Julian was sexually harassing me. Too bad I didn’t realize it until many years later. After the short change incident, I became very diligent about counting my money and to this day I check grocery store receipts to make sure I haven’t been overcharged for something. I also learned that being stoned at work is a bad idea.
I was a life guard at the pool/fitness club at the Dulles Marriott. We also had to do all the cleaning. I have probably folded 1,000,000 towels in my life, but also had to scrub and unclog the public toilets.
It was also where the Redskins used to house the rookies the summer before the season started. And it was also where they would all stay the night before home games. And they would often hang out at the pool/hot tub. They can really mess up a toilet.
But once I was down cleaning the bottom of the glass door and Dexter Manley came up and asked what I would do if he put his (very large) hand on the glass. I was like umm. Ask if you wanted to do the other? lol. He was joking. He was nice.
Worked for a car parking company that would send us to various states to do event parking for big name golf tournaments, as well as concerts (Lollapalooza was one). Also worked as a valet at local restaurants and country clubs. The stuff we saw and the things we did probably shouldn’t be repeated.
I worked a loading dock job one college summer at a Christmas ornament factory. Rest of the guys were drop outs, drug users, etc. I was the “college boy”, bottom of the totem pole, UNTIL—someone came on board they resented even more than me–factory owner’s son, who was relentlessly cheerful, and in divinity school, trying to save their souls during lunch break.
Thank you Derrick for taking the pressure off of me…
ADDENDUM: Just came to mind, worst day to have a shipment of glass ornaments loaded into a truck was after lunch Friday—the losers would cash their checks at lunchtime and restock their supply of ‘herbs’, and let us say they were very silly and clumsy the rest of the workday.
I worked at a supermarket one summer while I also had an unpaid internship. The manager kept harassing/begging me to quit school so I could continue working because they were so short staffed. He was constantly trying to add hours to my schedule despite being crystal clear upon being hired that it was temporary and that I had other commitments other day. Every two weeks it was a battle to get my schedule “fixed”. There were shop lifters, scammers, rude customers and I was a wreck every time I had to cash out because if we were a penny short, there would be screaming. But, I was determined to keep a smile on my face and be pleasant to the customers.
I had this one customer who purposefully started to shop on my work days and would wait in my line no matter how many customers were in front of him. He was an elderly man and he would always chat with me while I was checking him out. On my last day on the job he presented me with a photo album filled with jokes, clippings from the comics, and inspirational stories. He said he was always on the look out for the people who made his days brighter and he put together these albums to give out as a thank yous. I still have that album and that is my fondest memory of an otherwise awful job.
I was a production supervisor with 40 men working in my department on second shift. I was 23. My boss hated grads from the school I attended, so he actively messed with me … ordering me to change break times and make my employees do things that were legal but not typical (for example, making them sweep during short line breakdowns … there was a custodial staff that swept after the shift). One of my employees told me that he hated working for a woman so much that he beat his wife when he got home. I gave blood and the next blood drive, the poster had a picture of me lying on the table giving blood … I will spare you the details of the comments hand written on the poster. There was no ladies room in my area, so they made one out of a closet. One night, someone barricaded the door so I couldn’t get out & paged me constantly. An employee was mad when I wrote him up for an infraction & he threatened to shoot me. A skilled tradesman in my area asked me to come into his work area for something & he had it lined with pictures of naked, spread eagled women.
I left manufacturing after a couple years, and I have never regretted the fact that I could have made a lot more money had I stayed.
It’s how it was back then. And I had it better than the women before me, who did sue (some won). I was on the cusp of changes. Things really improved soon after I left, thanks to laws and protections that were being enforced.
I had the dream job or at least the dream industry/employer - although it turned out not to be a dream and I ended up in the business world. My journalism degree to be forever unused short of 9 months.
6 days a week, 2P to 3A, paid for 40 hours (early 90s). $7.50 an hour.
800 applicants for each job (at the time) and I got hired a year after I interviewed.
I didn’t make much - but it was valuable - it showed me I didn’t belong in that industry.
Summer camp counselor. I worked at the camp for three summers in HS. The first was unpaid as a junior counselor. The last two were paid (if you call what they paid us…pay). But the camp director changed the last year.
No great stories, I got very nice notes and gifts from my little kids at the end of the summer. And was told by the new director I didn’t need to bother applying for a fourth summer. Go figure.
I actually enjoyed my waitressing job after that…the only funny thing was the day another waitress tripped and spilled a bowl of split pea soup all over a customer. What a huge mess.
My first engineering job was with a company that didn’t have enough work. For awhile, they had me pasting photos into reports. Huh, they didn’t ask the male engineers to do that…
Then they asked me to study to become certified to be an oil tank inspector. ?!? I passed the test and never once inspected an oil tank.
Then they had me oversee two installations of some sewer pipe and manholes. One of the contractors was excellent, the other was horrible. I knew NOTHING about this - I was a structural engineer, not civil. I was out in the field from October through February. Cold as heck, and also very wet and muddy. And while I’m not a prude, hearing profanity ALL DAY LONG got very old.
In a precast concrete plant, I had to pump milk for my baby in the bathroom. Where the blueprint machine was located. But I have to say, the men never gave me a hard time for some reason.
Ok, I guess I have a story. It’s about a job some would think of as the worst, but hold your criticism.
One of my co-workers and I had a game where we tried to find the job with the highest pay for the least work. We kept trying to beat Massachusetts toll booth attendant where the starting pay (according to a Spotlight-like article at the time, around 1995) was $80K. The only reason we didn’t apply was seasonal temperature conditions in those tiny booths (and where were the bathrooms?). Then, one day, she came racing breathless into my office to drag me over to the DMV to see the winner with my own eyes. There, perched on a stool in air-conditioned comfort, was a person whose sole purpose in life was to pull the paper ticket number from the dispenser to hand to you before you sat down for your mind-numbing wait. My co-worker had already quizzed this person about the job to verify that, indeed, pulling tickets (and, no, don’t YOU touch the dispenser!) was her only function. She got breaks and government benefits. We were bedazzled.
Fast forward to last week when our son, who has endured this career-counseling story many times, texted me:
Him: OMG! I’m at the DMV. They have a person who stands by the touch-screen kiosk and presses the buttons for you!!!
Me: Hurry! Apply for that job now! (So glad this makes you think of your mother.)
Him: She is very personable/helpful. But why? You literally just press a big check-in button, type your last name and tag number, and it prints a ticket.
(Her: Sir, what is your last name?)
Him: I’m watching people spell out their tag number while standing ten inches from the screen!
Me: How old is this person? Maybe she moved.
Him: Maybe 30.
Me: Could be her daughter then. These jobs get passed down. You probably don’t stand a chance.
I’ll think of one to add - if I can.
