What was your worst job with the best stories?

[HImom]

I had other jobs I was just a bad fit at.

At 13 over the summer, somehow I got a labor permit and was allowed to be a state clerical assistant. The job required you to make a ton of copies with carbon paper (xerox wasn’t invented yet). There was an original, and white thin copy, a yellow, a marigold, a blue, pink and green sheet. If you made a mistake (I made a ton of them), you had to correct each page with the correct color correction fluid. It literally took me an entire day to do a full page of anything with all the corrections on all the sheets. Never held another clerical job!

At 14, I was a hotel hotel switchboard operator for the summer. I never gave it much though when people asked for drinking water, I told them I’d send a bellboy with a pitcher of iced water for them. It took me until about the middle of the summer to realize they didn’t know it was safe to drink tap water and then I’d tell them to get a glass, put it under the faucet, turn the faucet on and get water. I decided I never wanted to work at a hotel because I like having weekends and holidays for my family.

I worked at a large store in Waikiki (another summer job), where we were told we had quotas (I never asked and don’t think I was ever told what mine was). I was scolded by my supervisor when I was overheard telling the customer they had to choose what made THEM happy. I was told to encourage sale of highest priced item or better yet, both items. I realized sales was not my forte.

I worked as a summer leader of youngsters. It was mostly fun except for lecherous boss (who didn’t actually prey on me). It was where I did realize I couldn’t be with kids all day and then find home to my own kids and have any patience left. (I had thought I’d be a teacher.) My worst experience with the bad boss was when we went to a sky slide and only upon arriving learned that kids under 7 could not ride down the slide alone. The large majority of my kids were under 7! We had to go up the stairs & down the slide countless times with our little kids. I was furious! The bad boss just laughed. We had no chaperones—it was me, one or two teens and 20-30 little kids!

[LeastComplicated]

My worst job was my first out of college. I was a Forestry major but jobs were scarce so I took a job as a crew supervisor for a landscaping company in Dallas which specialized in large commercial properties.

The job consisted of directing a crew of 4-5 immigrants who didn’t speak English. I didn’t speak Spanish. But I found that they knew the ropes and I really only had to assign, by pointing, each crew member to a piece of equipment. They did a great job of completing their tasks efficiently and quickly.

The worst initial problem was that I was a small town girl and had to drive a very large manual transmission truck with a metal mesh caged bed filled with lots of equipment and my crew (in the back) all over the Dallas metropolitan area. Luckily my best friend had a small manual transmission car and she taught me to drive it, but I had no experience driving in large cities. I didn’t even realize that intersections with two left lanes existed! There were a couple of times that I had to slam on my brakes and the crew and equipment in the back went flying. I felt so bad.

When I was hired, I was told that when it rained, we’d get a paid day off. I thought, Oh boy, that’ll be great! The work was brutal. It was so hot in Dallas! And we were often walking on pavement a large proportion of the day. Because the work day was done when the daily assignments were finished, I worked alongside my crew every day so that we could all go home as early as possible. So I was out in the blazing sun using heavy and unwieldy equipment all day. I was wearing a uniform that was similar to the stereotypical mechanics uniform and be dripping sweat and dirty and guys would drive by and whistle at me! The uniform shirt was not thin at all, but I soon developed a tan line from my bra! For lunch, we’d stop at a convenience store, and the crew and I would sit in the shade on the sidewalk and lean our backs against the building and eat our lunch. On Fridays, I’d stop a second time at the end of the day and buy everyone a large cold drink. My fondest memory was that one day, an office guy noticed me working outside his window and came up to me with a cold Pepsi and said “you look like you need this.” It was heavenly.

It only rained ONE day that summer on a work day. . I lost about 15 lbs and gained a bunch of muscle. I found I could do like ten pull ups very easily. But I only lasted four months. I was semi engaged (my first serious relationship) and my boyfriend was supposed to follow me to Dallas after he graduated at the end of the summer. Instead he broke up with me. So I gave my notice and cried while I cut grass for two weeks. On my last day, one of my married coworkers yelled at me, “I’d quit too if I could.” My crew was sweet and said goodbye to me. My supervisor tried to convince me to stay. I said no thanks, but in my head, “Hell no!”

I went home and got an office job in my hometown where I had to breath smoke all day, and spent my free time applying to forestry jobs. In the spring, I got offered three seasonal positions: one with a National Forest in Wyoming, one at Grand Teton National Park, and one with the Bureau of Indian Affairs on the Mescalero Apache Indian reservation. Although I really wanted the Grand Teton job, the BIA job was for a longer period of time, so that’s the one I accepted. I worked for the BIA for 24 years and have LOTS of stories to tell about that, mostly good. But that’s for another day.

[MaineLonghorn]

I like my situation - I work for a manufacturing facility but remotely. I get to drive by some of “my” projects.

[MaineLonghorn]

My grandfather worked for the BIA for quite awhile. I know he was on a reservation in Montana and also the Turtle Mountain Reservation in North Dakota. I didn’t know the specific name of that reservation until I happened to read “The Night Watchman” by Louise Erdrich - it’s fictional but based on her grandfather’s story. When they mentioned Belcourt, North Dakota, it sounded familiar so I looked into it and discovered that’s where my grandfather worked.

Talk about tough - he had a master’s degree but to survive during the Depression, he sold eggs door to door.

[Publisher]

Worked one summer as a security guard at a horse racing track. Pay was about $6.15 an hour with an extra $0.75 per hour when transporting money in an armored car because we were given guns under a blanket permit and had to walk with our guns drawn when outside of the armored car.

Primarily worked in the stable area. While unarmed, twice had to break-up knife fights between grown men surrounded by groups of grown men who may have been betting on the outcome of the knife fights. My presence was not welcomed by the participants and the spectators.

Also as a teenager, worked disaster relief construction work. Bored heavy machinery operators would push the pay-loader shovel into our legs to get us to move out of the way.

I was not able to get the best job in disaster relief–body recovery–which paid the equivalent of approximately $450 an hour in today’s dollars. The worst aspect of that job was the offensive odors. Plus, the bodies would fall apart when moved.

Another job was delivering medicine to dying individuals. One man who had been diagnosed with terminal cancer answered the door with almost half of his face missing due to surgery. Did not wear a mask.

[Publisher]

Also, while engaged in disaster relief, we were under martial law during the time from–as best as I can recall–dusk to dawn. Many of us volunteered for nighttime patrol to police looting. Had to supply our own guns and ammunition. Given orders to shoot at any noise within the evacuated area. Any noise. Even as a 15 year old I realized that meant that we might shoot another patrol so I never discharged my weapon even though I heard noise frequently. Guess that they wanted an example.

Wasn’t a good job, but there was nothing else to do when isolated on an island without any utilities. However, I did learn how to move without making noise. And, in an eerie way, the volunteer patrolling was relaxing during a very stressful time. Did not use a flashlight even though it was dark because I did not want to become a target for an overzealous patrol.

[BKSquared]

Caddied at the rich people’s country club (great golf course, several USGA and PGA events have been played there) so that I could play for free on Mondays. I might have worked a couple of days a week, so I was not on the “favored” caddies list of the caddy master . Also didn’t play cards for money or smoke with the “regular” caddies (Caddy Shack is not that far off reality). The bags I ended getting were usually crappy golfers or couples. The way to make money was to double bag, so when you caddy for bad golfers, you have to walk twice as far as you zig zag through the course in 95 degrees 90 humidity. The Monday golf was the only reason I stuck with it.

[Catcherinthetoast]

Worked for two summers on a commercial fishing boat harvesting clams.

Day one they started calling me college kid.

Day two I managed to loose a major piece of equipment by not having it properly fastened.

Day three they abandoned “college kid” and just muttered Fing Idiot College Kid.

Days 4 and beyond was called the nickname “FICK” as an acronym.

I still have people from my home town that call me FICK.

[MADad]

Reading this post, for some reason “I’m Alright”, theme from Caddyshack, is playing in my head…

I hope you stayed out of Judge Smalls’ way…

[BKSquared]

I did have that old couple.

[Catcherinthetoast]

At least when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.

[prezbucky]

I bagged groceries a couple of summers during school. I tried to spice up the tedium by singing/humming to myself. I would sing old big band tunes to the elderly ladies while sacking their stuff. (this was the '90s, so the '20s-'40s would have been their salad days I figured…)

Only a couple complained, and I got some smiles and hugs.

[Lindagaf]

This thread isn’t quite as ridiculous as I thought it would be. People are raising some really interesting issues.

[ucbalumnus]

The jobs were not necessarily bad until the end, but small companies running out of money made for some stories.

I got laid off early from one. Shortly thereafter, they called to try to get me to go back, but the job market was very employee favorable at the time, so I declined. Not long after that, the rest of the employees got laid off, but final paychecks did not come until after some legal action.

In another, the company started prepaying employees’ pay a few weeks ahead. Any excess prepaid pay was treated as a severance package for employees who got laid off. Needless to say, the company did not last long after that. However, the treatment of 401k plans afterward was dodgy in that they were transferred to a new manager who deducted fees before notifying employees of such fees.

[Lindagaf]

That is an interesting perspective on shady employers, but I would like to hear just one juicy story about you personally @ucbalumnus . You are the most shadowy person on CC

[momofboiler1]

OMG I forgot about my worst worst job! I was temping while in grad school and got placed analyzing utility data for a company that owned shopping malls. I found out a few weeks in that they were manipulating my data to unjustly increase tenant charges and try to break their lease agreements. They treated their employees horribly as well and it turned out they had fired a bunch of full time employees and replaced them with temps like me where they didn’t have to pay benefits.

I quit shortly there after and they offered me a full time role for double what I was offered elsewhere but I never looked back. They were horrible unethical people.

[JustaMom]

I had an accounting job where I was asked to keep 2 separate sets of books. One to show the bank, and the “real” one. They offered to double my salary.

Pass.

I quit and told them I couldn’t be bought.

[VeryHappy]

Oh my. So many stories. Here’s one of them.

I found a job with a small boutique firm that published a psychotherapy magazine and psychiatric and psychotherapy books, for professionals in the field.

My title was simply “Editor,” and I reported to Jennifer, the Managing Editor. During my first week, I quickly realized the organization operated like a small sorority. The art director, the copy editor, the administrative assistant – all reported directly to Jennifer, all were her best friends, and all worshipped her. Jennifer loved this – she was a real “queen bee.” She delighted in having a swarm of people around her to handle her every whim. She delighted in being the center of attention and the focus of others’ worship. I tried really hard to get on board, but it just wasn’t going to happen.

Her queen bee-ness manifested itself in unusual ways. Jennifer lived just two blocks from the office. When she wanted to have a meeting with me alone first thing in the morning, she told me to come to her apartment. For our “meeting,” I sat on her toilet, with the cover down, while she blow-dried her hair and put her make-up on. Thank goodness, she was at least already dressed!

Jennifer also planned weekly lunches out with her coterie of gal worshippers. Of course I was invited; Jennifer assumed I would be one of the worshippers. The lunches included significant amounts of liquor, and as the hours at lunch went on, Jennifer became louder and louder. I quickly discovered that we were expected to share private information with each other – what we did in our off hours, whom we were sleeping with, and what recreational drugs we were taking. That was not for me. I like boundaries!

One particular queen bee episode remains with me to this day. Jennifer asked me to go to the deli on the corner for her and bring back her typical breakfast, a side order of bacon. I had no idea how to decline this “request,” so I went. When I returned, Jennifer was not in her office. I left the order of bacon on her desk. Ten minutes later, she came running to my office, her eyes wide, holding the Styrofoam container in front of her as if it were poison. “This?!” she yelled. “What’s this?”

“That’s your order of bacon,” I said.

“No, no, you went to the wrong place! This isn’t right! This isn’t what I get from my deli! The deli I go to is around the corner, and they always give me four pieces. You have to go back and get me the right order!!”

I was enraged – and powerless. A terrible feeling.

After about four months of liquid lunches, late mornings and many absences, Jennifer took a leave of absence. It was apparent that her drinking had caught up with her. I was appointed “interim Managing Editor” and received a 33% raise – not too shabby!

From my perspective, things were moving along well. I kept things on schedule, added value with my editing, and gained some respect from the rest of the staff. I was finally enjoying myself in this company. But after only about two weeks, Jennifer returned. She met with me in her office, with the door closed, and told me that while she had been out, she had heard many complaints from the rest of the staff. They considered me fussy and uptight. I was pushing them too hard. I hadn’t taken everyone to lunch last week.

Finally, she came out with a real zinger: “And just look at you! Everyone laughs at the way you dress and walk around the office! No one dresses like that in this office!!”

I was shocked! My clothes were in fact hand-me-downs, from my career-lady aunt, but they were professional, up-to-date, and clean. To maintain my dignity and self-respect, I said, “Jennifer, if this is how people perceive me, then I don’t think I can work here anymore.”

Well, that was what she was waiting to hear! She jumped on that with all her energy and shouted, “Well, then, get out!”

I was dumb as a stump to let her do that to me. I just walked into the trap she created. She didn’t have to fire me, although I’m sure she would have loved to. I just up and quit, to her delight, in order to maintain my so-called dignity. With the advantage of around 50 years of maturity and hindsight, I’m thankful that I escaped from that sick situation when I did. But the experience taught me very well for the future: I learned to never quit until I was ready to quit, and to hold out, if at all possible, for some monetary goodies.

[MaineLonghorn]

My boss, the owner of the precast concrete plant, was dipping into the employees’ retirement fund money. He served a jail term. I was just a contractor, so I wasn’t affected.

His accountant asked me to lie to the IRS so it would seem like I was an independent contractor. I really wasn’t, since it was my only job and I worked on site, using their equipment. I didn’t understand back then that they should have been paying the employer’s part of FICA. I wouldn’t have lied, of course, but the IRS never contacted me.

[islandmama1]

Not necessarily my worst job, but it was a boring one.

In the late 80’s I was in college, and one of my work study jobs was being the afternoon/evening switchboard operator. One day I took a call from a guy asking where he was calling - turns out it was his 21st birthday, and to celebrate, he decided to get drunk and dial his own phone number in the UK, but with a San Francisco area code, just to see what would happen.

He was a pretty funny fellow, and we got along right away. He would call me on my shift every few days and we got to know each other well. We ended up being friends for over a decade, exchanging long letters (remember those?) and birthday presents.

Eventually we both got married (to other people) and our communication pretty much tapered off. I’m not sure why neither of us ever proposed meeting in person, I guess the mystery was part of what made it special.