WJE

matthew's picture

Today, I've invented a new acronym: WJE. Worst. Job. Ever. Inspired by this posting by our own TimClarkeJr, I have a question: what's the worst job you, or someone you know, has ever had? What was your (or their) singularly worst experience on that job?

Turns out there's a whole web site devoted to voting on the worst jobs ever. I may have to go submit a few one day...

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matthew's picture

My worst job ever

I'd have to say it was three days on a construction site in Rexburg, ID. I was helping build the new church there. My entire job description was to haul twenty-foot lengths of rebar from the bottom of the construction site, where they'd been dropped when shipped, up to the top where they needed it.

Each rebar weighed roughly 80 lbs each. And they got on my case if I attempted to bring less than 3 at a time.

At noon on the third day, I dropped by the foreman's office, told them I was going home. I simply never went back.

I have another story to regale you with, regarding a condom, a cash register, and a whole lot of blood, but that will have to wait.

--
Matthew P. Barnson

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Matthew P. Barnson

JB's picture

Construction ...

There must be something about construction...

After leaving H.S. i moved down to Orlando Florida. Tim might remember the trip down in my van (Thanks again for taking the trip & Helping me move). Shortly after moving down there, i got a job as a laborer on a construction site. Working in the florida heat and as a laborer was grueling work. Digging footers, moving rebar, moving the framing lumber. All things that i would not willingly do again. I quit in almost the same fashion. I was working this job for a little more than a week before i decided that this type of work was not for me. I had physically and emotionally broke my body down and had enough. After lunch one day i walked in and turned in my hardhat to the foreman and said i was not wanting to do that kind of work any more and i was not going to come back.

matthew's picture

Story of someone I know who has the WJE...

So Christy and I were on one of our regular treks between Idaho and Las Vegas back in the day when the family was split for a short time. This trip, we were making together, and stopped in a little town called Beaver to grab some lunch from McDonald's.

Lo and behold, we ran into one of Christy's former roommates from college, with her husband and small child. We got talking, and eventually ran out of the "catching up on old times" stuff. The roommate's husband was a stranger to us, so I began by asking about him. Where he's from, and eventually... <cough> what he does.

"Well, I work up at the pig farm nearby," he responded self-deprecatingly. He's a humble man, and a friendly sort, but well-spoken. "I started out cleaning out the pens and shoveling, that kind of work. But these days, I'm mostly responsible for helping make new pigs."

This seemed a curious statement. Make new pigs? "How do you make new pigs?" I inquired.

"Well, umm," he replied, for the first time failing in eloquence during our conversation, "the usual way. But the pigs... they are kinda' lazy."

The words hung in the air.

"The males are so used to being cared for and having everything done for them that they need that taken care of, too." He smiled, with raised eyebrows, obviously waiting for me to make the connection.

You could hear nothing but the sound of children laughing and playing on the playset nearby.

After noticing that I continued to stare stupidly at him, he continued, "I plug the pig in. The males won't even bother getting interested, so I help them get ready and," he waited, apparently resigned himself to describing it fully, and continued, "plug them into the females."

I was stunned, and changed the topic quickly.

That's my candidate for the worst jeaorb ever, man. Oy.

--
Matthew P. Barnson

--
Matthew P. Barnson

paul@murphymaphia.com's picture

ding ding ding ding

Pencils down, folks. We haaaave a winner!

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paul@murphymaphia.com's picture

still laughing

When people ask him what he does he should simply say, "Shaken Bacon"...
So basically he gives them a ham job so they can pork. Right?
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matthew's picture

And you thought yours was bad

Every time I get sick of seeing another command line and debugging another connection problem, I think of this guy's job and think, "Man, do I ever have it good."

--
Matthew P. Barnson

--
Matthew P. Barnson

matthew's picture

That was awful!

That was awful!

Awfully entertaining...

--
Matthew P. Barnson

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Matthew P. Barnson

Timpane's picture

Pie

I like..

Aw hell.. yeah.. thats pretty freakin funny

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Teresa's picture

Ick! Ick! Ick!

--There is absolutely no way that I could ever beat the "Pig Plugger", however my worst job was when I worked at Suburban Hospital. I worked in the kitchen spooning slop. It was in the middle of a summer heat wave ( 100 degree weather ), and I was pregnant. Now every woman knows that when you are pregnant you are already hot enough. You don't need the added heat of the sun or a very hot kitchen. You certainly also don't need to look at food that people eat through a straw. Nasty gray goo.
We had an assembly line that worked on a turnabout where we each had a station with a paticular food. After a while you get used to the food, what you don't get used to were certain menu's. The little cards that you fill out when you stay at a hospital are usually color coded had have the wing you are in written on it. So you knew if it was an older person in geriatric's, a person just staying overnight to be monitored or a child in the burn unit. That was the worst part. You couldn't help but feel for certain menu's. Especially the children menu's. You would know if it was the child that came in by helicoptor and what their illness was. We would alway's give them extra dessert. Just to make us and them feel better.
About a half hour after the tray's were done being distributated they started comming back to be cleaned. That's when you would see the puke and the blood, and you just had to work through it. So the next time you are staying in a hospital don't be so hard on the cafeteria ladies. They have it hard too.
Teresa the Flautist and fire dancer

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Teresa the Flautist and fire dancer

christy's picture

That was good.

We all know Matt tells a great story. When Matt asked him his occupation, the guy actually said, "I'm a plugger." and then would proceed to explain what that meant if you were still interested in knowing.

He must still be plugging because we eat a lot of bacon around here. --

Christy

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Christy

Sammy G's picture

Painting

Matt, you totally win.

But...I was once forced to paint my ex-girlfriend's house. It took one week and several coats. Painting is awful. I would never want to be a professional house painter.

At least with the pigs you're getting paid for sex.

paul@murphymaphia.com's picture

Me too

I too worked in a hospital cafeteria.
The worst smell sense memories I have come from that experience. I can still smell the way vinegar burns when used to scrape clean a still-hot grill. That plus the smell a hospital has anyway is enough to make me sick just thinking about it. In fact, when you think of the way a cafeteria smells like spoiled milk and add that to the smell of sick that you find in a hospital.... ugg...

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*This signature is an experiment in Google Bombing
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Teresa's picture

--The worst part was when the

--The worst part was when the smell of sickness would come back with the tray's and I would have to scrap that away. It was something that will never leave me.
Teresa the Flautist and fire dancer

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Teresa the Flautist and fire dancer

Ben's picture

Hm

Well, I had a friend (Jewish girl) who was working for a temp agency and was sent one day to a job that she soon realized entailed transcribing a newsletter for a Neo-Nazi Organization. :) She walked right out.

--
Ben

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Ben

TimClarkeJr's picture

Ahh, sunny Orlando

I remember that trip, John, and considering my advancing years, recalling an event that many years ago is quite an accomplishment. That was a blast of a trip. I recall you had a sweet bachelor pad going, too, complete with pool, view of the Orlando/Winter Haven skyline, etc. Good times. Sorry to hear about how that job worked out, though.

I should add that serving my penance at Door Store, my personal Worst Job Ever, did result in a few long-term benefits. As the store was on the verge of closing, several choice floor-model pieces mysteriously appeared in our living room. Those pieces are still with us today. But as nice as they are, they can't make me forget the time I was nearly killed by an 8-foot wide glass dining table that shattered as I carried it into a customer's third floor (walk-up) apartment over in Grosvenor.

I also had a great crash-course in customer service, since it was practically a company motto that serving the customer's needs came second to corporate graft and corruption. But working with customers who had been royally robbed by the store taught me some valuable lessons, which I can apply today here at the office. Dealing with the national media is a lot like dealing with whining customers - they need to be coddled and pampered or they make your life miserable.

Go Nationals! First in the NL East!