>>>>>What was the worst job you ever had?<<<<<
Assembly line binding at a newspaper plant. Hand collating, inserting sections of newspaper into other sections of newspaper. Advertising supplements. The papers come off the printing press, are automatically cut and folded, and slide on a bed of rollers, sort of fanned out. Grab one, shove in an advertising supplement, stack it on the side, when the stack gets to the right height, someone else wraps the stack in plastic tape and throws it to the people who stack the stacks in trucks. No stopping, unless the press breaks down, or until the relief worker comes so you can take a 15 minute break, twice a day, and half an hour for lunch. I did it for all of a day and a half. Broke out in hives, not sure if it was from the ink and paper, or just nerves. Noisiest place I've ever been in my life. On the second day, I punched out for lunch, got in my car, and didn't go back.
I know, I know, I'm a wuss. Gaugie posted one time about working in a sawmill in the winter, with no gloves, made me feel like I've been really spoiled all my life.
Working in bars was pretty disgusting, in retrospect, it was nasty, and degrading, but at least I got to keep my hands clean.
Shooting litho camera and stripping litho negatives for years and years was pretty tedious, I hated it, really, because it was brainless work, high-pressure, in the dark all the time, poor ventilation, nasty chemicals, and my co-workers were idiots, braying jackasses, but the pay was good. I put myself and my husband through college that way, but I hated every minute. True alienation, just about how old Karl Marx described it. Now, don't get me wrong, Marx is another idiot, but he understood how assembly line work is alienating to anyone with a brain. Soul-destroying, almost.
I don't like handling custody cases, and I hope to God I never handle another criminal defense case. Coming up with slick ways to get people out of charges they were guilty of turned my stomach. You can say all you want about it being my job, but someone else can have it, please. Being congratulated by some slick bastard, and the look on the cop's face, and even, sometimes, the victim's face. Oh, brother, that's not as bad as stoop labor, though, is it?
But you could leave the stoop labor, and your co-workers are still there. Thank your lucky stars. |
