Worst job you ever had

Worst non-journalism job I've ever had, working at SportChek -- a major sports retailer in Canada -- my second year in Canada. Because of this job I have the utmost respect for those in retail who actually try to be helpful. The worst day, by far, I was scheduled to work Dec. 27 as one of two people in hard goods (store was split into two sections, soft goods -- clothing and shoes -- and hard goods -- all of the sporting equipment). Usually there were three or four.

Now I need to explain something for the Americans on this board. In the States you have Black Friday, in Canada we have Boxing Day, the day after Christmas, which has morphed into Boxing Week, when the stores have Black Friday type sales and clear outs. The first couple of days are always insane.

So me and the other guy split the hard goods department in two, he would take skiis and snow boards and everything on ones side, I would take hockey and golf and everything on the other side. I had people fighting over me at one point. And in the process of helping people find skates that fit them, in one short period I had close to 20 pairs of skates dragged out form the back and piled up. It was just stupid.

I quit that to take a job as a line cook at a Red Robins.

I've also worked on a wild boar farm for a summer, a golf course grounds crew for three and a half summers -- this two was a shitty job, 8 hours of day with a weed eater going around every single tree on the course and the edges of hazards -- and on a gravel pit crusher for a summer -- this I would actually consider doing again, despite nearly getting killed a few times and horking up gravel dust for a month after I went back to school, came out of it in the best shape of my life, only time I've ever had anything closely resembling a six pack.

 

I interviewed for one of those "Sports Marketing" gigs just after college. About 15 minutes into the interview I realized that this was basically a scam and the real job would be nothing like the way it was described in the ad they ran. A few weeks later 60 Minutes ran a piece on those types of jobs and I felt a lot better about walking out even though I was still unemployed at that point.

Worst gig I ever had was a volunteer job shooting video at a music festival. I was told I was there for two purposes, shoot for a "Video Yearbook" of the festival they were going to try to sell and a live feed of the main stage for the big screen they put up in the beer tent. Those two things were run by different guys who were not on speaking terms and scoffed at the idea that I might be helping the other guy too. The equipment was shit too which made things fun. The guy doing the video yearbook also wanted interviews with some of the musicians, which he didn't trust me to shoot. I had just left a 2.5 year gig as a TV sports reporter at a station that covered the Packers regularly, but I wasn't trusted to hold some $50 camcorder while another guy interviews a band I've never heard of. Great. I should have just walked in the first 10 minutes. My name wasn't on the pass list so it took a good half hour to sort out that I wouldn't actually need to pay to get in and once I finally got in I was told the guy I was working with first was backstage and my pass didn't allow me backstage.

 

I applied for a part-time editing job with a small publishing company when I was in college, just 19 years old. When I interviewed, I was told that I would make a great fit if I could survive the probationary period, which entailed some phone work. You know, just to make sure I could show up to work on time, not call out a lot, make sure I was mature.

Some phone work was code for working in the call center. I would call magazine subscribers for surveys, so I wasn't selling them anything they didn't already have or want. Just a satisfaction survey. About three weeks later I started getting suspicious that I was suckered into a call center job at lunch one day, when I overheard a few other workers talking about how they still hadn't moved to editorial after 18 months.

I quit later that day.

It wasn't awful work, but I wasn't thrilled about falling for the bait-and-switch.

 

Occasionally in high school I'd work at an order-out chicken/pizza joint, putting fliers on doorknobs. Was on the same crew as my stepbrother who, ah, let's just say he's one of those folks I'm happy I don't have to deal with anymore.

In college, worked for about a week in telemarketing for a stockbroker, cold-calling to see if they wanted municipal bonds. Another gig I disliked.

 

Wow, I've had it pretty easy. My worst job was dressing up as Yogi Bear, Templeton the Rat, Fred Flintstone or some other Hanna-Barbera character to promote an amusement park under construction near Three Chopt Tech. It was hot an uncomfortable and kids are jerks but we got paid from the second we left campus until we returned home so the money was decent.

Yogi was the best. He had shoes that were easy to walk in and fingers, so we could sign autographs. I'm sure there were some parents in Henrico County that were mighty surprised when their kids showed the slips of paper that had been autographed, "Impeach Nixon, Yogi Bear."



Yog

 

I spent a summer as a mover for a low-end company in my college town. It was hard work, but it had its benefits. That was the only time in my life when I could have been legitimately described as muscular, and I got the only real manual-labor cred of my life. And we smoked up ALL. THE. TIME.

 

$8 an hour was nice money for an 18-year-old in 1988, but UPS gets their money's worth out of you.
Ask your buddy the driver what's like for the guys working at the regional hub in unload.

Selling drugs is a much better way to pay the rent when you're in college.

 

Spent a day cleaning up an oil spill. The pay was ridiculously good at the time. $17 an hour - but between wading around in a wetland, getting sunburn mixed with oil all over my skin and picking up dead birds - I was quite ecstatic to learn they cut the workforce down after the first day and didn't need me. The best part of it was working with the people I did and realize how fortunate I didn't have to do that for a living.
Runner-up: Worked a temp job for a few weeks packaging circular saw blades. It was a typical assembly-line process. Whistles, line starts, whistles, line stops for break. Whistles - Lunch. Whistles, shift over. Repetitive as hell. I didn't see how anyone could do this as a permanent gig. A few years later, the operation was moved to North Carolina and I felt bad for people who depended on that job.

 

Some of these job descriptions have me confused.

How do work dusk to dawn during the hottest part of the day?

If you're raising wild boar on a farm, don't they cease to be wild boars? If you raise them on a farm, aren't they just mean pigs?

 

When I was in college, I worked two summers in a steel mill for tuition money. I would leave that place every day fifty shades of filthy and completely exhausted. It had the side benefit of making sure I didn't dick around too much when I actually went back to school in the fall, lest I wind up back at that hellhole.

Worst job dealing with people was a few years ago when I got a part-time gig for some extra dough as a cashier at a grocery store. About 95 percent of the customers were either nice people or completely indifferent. But all it took was that tiny sliver of shitheads to make you want to punch a hole in the wall.

I also worked at steak n shake for three hours in college. Took me that long to decide that the paper hat and bow tie was unbecoming.

 

Different subspecies. Just the local colloquialism for them for where I was. Call it a razorback farm if you want. And they are mean sonsofbitches. Dangerous as fuck. But damn are they delicious. Thankfully I didn't have to deal with them too much, I was used for a bunch of odd jobs around the farm, like tearing down an old outbuilding and a few other projects. Only there for about three months.

 

My worst job was wrangling hyperboles.