Saturday, October 1, 2011

Listography - Top 5 Worst Jobs I've done

Or if you'd rather - 'Bottom 5 Jobs I've Done.'

This weeks Listography is inspired by a story my good friend Emma told me yesterday called her 'I Am A Very Hairy Man' story. It involves chamber-maiding, a hoover and well, a very hairy man. Remind me to tell it to you sometime.

Anyway, I'm quite sure none of my worst jobs will live up to that experience *shudder*,  but here they are anyway:

1. Washer-upper.
Working in a local pub \ restaurant wiping the slops off plate after plate of leftover dinners. I did it a couple of evenings a week whilst I was still in school and would be depressed for the whole day running up to it. Eventually I worked my way up to the dizzy heights of 'Dessert Chef' and then the holy grail of Waitress. And then I was fired for my 'attitude'. Attitude? What attitude? Well FUCK YOU Mr. Spendless.

2. Very Bad Waitress, Malta
I should have known not to enter into the catering industry after my last fiasco but the options are few and far between when you've only got a holiday visa and are in an unknown country for three months. The name of the place was Snoopy's which will give you a good indication of the calibre of the joint. Unfortunately the owner thought he was running The Ritz and expected his poorly paid, illegal staff to pull out all the stops. On one of his visits to ensure we were adequately slaving away he stopped me and mentioned that I wasn't actually a very good waitress and would have to improve if I wanted to keep my job. Desperate to impress I mumbled in agreement and then watched him walk down the wooden stair case to the floor below. 'Best get on with it then' I thought to my self and started vigorously wiping down one of the tables. Which is how I managed to knock the large bottle of ketchup off the table, over the balcony and watched it smash at said owners feet. I am forever in debt to the lovely English girl who rushed down the stairs and into his furious face apologising for her mistake. Phew.

3. Technical Support, Dublin.
My first 'proper' job. Having been trained for about three weeks I still knew no more than my first day there. I had no idea what the difference between the EPROM and the Flash Memory was, whether a Kilobyte was bigger than a Megabyte or what to do when a motherboard blew up. On my first week on the phones a man called up needing to be talked through fitting his new memory inside his base unit. With my Team Leader listening in and guiding me through we were making progress, albeit slow. After about an hour the man understandably lost his patience saying 'Look, I haven't got all day here, could you just put me directly onto the guy who's talking you through all this?' I handed my headset over. The shame.

4. Fruit picking, Australia.
Sounds romantic doesn't it. Well it aint. It's bloody awful. 6am starts, back breaking work in the hot sun, and weeks of living solely off asparagus, tomatoes, cherries or whatever it was that you were plucking from the ground or branch. At the end of about three years hard labour you were handed a purse with five gold coins, four of which the farmer then took back for bed and board.

5.  Norwich Union, Bristol.
I actually a had a few great jobs inbetween all these - in fact I went from earning a fortune and living in Knightsbridge to earning a pittance and living in Bristol via some time out in Thailand (or as the Irish like to say Thigh-land). Bristol was a stop gap before heading off on our next jaunt to New Zealand which would be our last big trip before coming home to settle for 'awhile' in Ireland (that was about 10 years ago now). Anyway, when my boss in Norwich Union found out what I had been previously doing in London she looked at me aghast. 'But what the hell are you doing here?' she asked. I couldn't really answer that question and shortly after handed in my notice. I still love Bristol mind, just not if I have to work in Norwich Union.

Right, that's my trip down memory lane. All good character building stuff I'm sure you'll agree. In fact I've been training my own kids for when their turn comes.

Now it's your turn. I bet you can't beat the I'm A Very Hairy Man story but I'd like to see you try. I may even reveal it in it's entirety next week (if I'm allowed).

You can link up in the linky below, or if you're new here take a look at the Listography tab at the top of the page. And don't forget to share the love by visiting some of the other entries.

Now off you go and finish scrubbing those toilets.

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