Worst job you ever had

Then again, at least I worked that job for the full term. The only job I quit the same day I took it: working at a car wash. Having to climb in those cars and contort your arm to dry off the inside of the front and back windshield SUCKED. I think I made it an hour and a half. Didn't even go pick up my check.

 

Why would they kills trees?

 

I had to mop rivulets of cum nightly at 3 a.m. in the quarter-porn booths at the Pleasure Palace in Iowa City.

 

I did take one job that was advertised as "sports marketing" and it involved going into gas stations and trying to sell a bunch of items that would all fall into the category of complete junk. I had no idea what the job entailed based on the interview. I would have walked as soon as I found out, but a manager had driven me to the warehouse and I had no ride back to where my car was.

At lunch, the manager had me drive his car back to the job. I drove it back, walked in, handed his keys to the secretary, jumped into my car and never came back. I left the guy stranded a few miles away. I was worried that he might report his car stolen, but the job was so bad that it was a chance I was willing to take.

 

Miniature golf groundskeeper - First day, I'm asked to disassemble and paint the benches. Owner leaves me alone. I do it. It takes nearly the whole shift. I come back the next day and he states that it isn't up to his standard (he doesn't explain what I did wrong) and was docking my pay. I should have quit right there, but I needed the job. The whole experience gets worse. I was under the impression when I was hired that I would arrive in the morning, cut grass when needed, trim bushes and shrubs, make repairs, blow the leaves off the greens..etc. He put me on birthday parties. I had to dress up like a golf ball. Before you know it, I'm pulling some night shifts working on a cash register from the '50s which just doesn't work. Mr. owner, who claimed to 75 years old and proclaimed he never took vacations as a badge of honor, grew increasingly irritated about my confusion about my role at his business and we pretty much agreed to part ways. I snagged a better job in a bike warehouse almost immediately. His business lasted just a few more years. Turns out the fucker was in his late 50s/early 60s and had taken vacations before.

 

Worked in a plant that made components for HVAC units. My job was to pick up from a bin two precast aluminum plug-caps the size of a gas tank lid, stick them into slots on one end of the grinder, and then pull the other two from the opposite end and insert two new ones before the first two were completed. Mind-numbingly repetitive.

Followed directions. Supervisor came by twice, measured the caps, said everything was great. Came by a third time measured the caps, said they all were wrong and had to be tossed.

Aside from him being a tool, I realized about four hours into the night (3rd shift) that sticking my hands in a double-sided machine with grinding drill bits the size of broomsticks wasn't a great idea for a writing career. Didn't go back.

 

After I got laid off from my paper, I went back to Seattle and took a temporary job as a scorer of standardized tests. All you needed was a degree and you were in.

The pay was good, $16/hr, but, holy shit was it an awful job.

You had to read responses written by 3rd, 4th and 5th graders to different prompts for eight hours a day. If you wanted to go to the bathroom, you had to ask. I started looking for reasons to not go to work. Couldn't have been more pleased when I found a FT gig.

Left this job to be a meter maid in downtown Bellevue, Washington in the summer. I'd give out four to five at the start of my eight hours, go find something to do for six hours, then come back for my last hour and give out five or six more. Boss never caught on that all my tickets were written in a two hour period. Great gig.

 

A newspaper at which the publisher wouldn't give me my job back after a deployment.

 

Janitor at a chemical plant. One day I had to climb in a sludge pit/septic tank and fill buckets with whatever was in there, which were then pulled out and dumped.

 

This is one of my biggest pet peeves. There's a special place in hell for people who can't be bothered to walk an extra 50 feet to the cart corral. Besides it being a pain in the ass for the store's cart wranglers, it's dangerous. Those things can easily roll into traffic, or into a parked car and smash a headlight or cause a dent.
Anyone who doesn't return carts deserves a Mike Tyson-level punch in the kidneys.

 

You win.

Holy fuck that sounds awful.

 

Sounds like the worst publisher you've ever had.

Was the job shitty, too?