Showing posts with label Love's Labour's Lost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love's Labour's Lost. Show all posts

Monday, September 03, 2007

In Praise of Labour Day

The worst jobs I have had:

Bartender
This was a bad job on a couple of levels for me since I don't drink very much, have never been a party sort of girl, and knew junk all about mixing drinks. Not that that mattered much, because they were mostly oil rig workers, and all I really needed to know was how to open a beer bottle or pour Kahlua in a morning coffee for the alcoholics that pounded on the door and demand to be let in before the place was opened. They were nice guys though as long as the liquor held out - always trying to buy me drinks, telling dirty jokes and tipping me $.25 since that was all they had left.

Door to Door Hospital Canvasser.
If you want to be emotionally abused, get a job canvassing for a worthy cause. I think people enjoy being mean to canvassers. It's kind of like watching boxing, maybe. You get to take out your pent up anger in a socially acceptable manner. No one likes people who ask for money for nothing. The funny part was that I was fantastic at the job. I always brought in the most money in my group because apparently I'm good at sincerity and begging. People seem to prefer that to slimy, fast talkin' money grabbers. Who knew?

Youth Worker
This weekend I was punched, kicked, slapped around, threatened, and close to being stabbed. I like my job. Really. But I also like my face with two eyes, and I'm not crazy about mopping up pee and poopy toilet paper. Or boogers. Hate the boogers.

Pizza Maker.
Hot, greasy, demoralizing. But, I came out of it knowing how to toss and catch pizza dough like a good Italian girl. No. I'm not Italian, but I could be, now.

Weed Puller.
I was eighteen. Needed money. The thistles were taller than I was and the sun was hot like hades.

Substitute teacher.
Hey, you all remember what it was like when a sub walked into class.

There are more. Lots more. I've been in school for so many years that I could paper my bedroom with all the throw away jobs on my resume.

You?

And now, my darling reader(s), I'm going to bed, 'cause this ain't really a holiday for me.
And goodnight.