Everyone, at one point in their life, has one shitty life-consuming job or another. Right? I think I've found mine! It's just as if I have 3 years of schooling under my belt, and I've been preparing for this all my life, when where do I find myself at the youthful age of one and twenty? Where else but the local Russian super-market, from where my family gets their daily bread. The Baza, if you will. Here I'm on my feet from the early morning onto around 8:30 at night, with a half-hour break in-between. This is one type of job where the physical demands do not match to the beginning salary - a measly 7.25 to start. (Note: I will say that just after I started the head-bosses brought back the tip jar for all the cashiers, which helps tremendously.) That is good I guess, I haven't looked at my check - but I'm rollin' in the dough, they call me the Pillsbury-dough boy. My friends do, no but seriously, I have been making mad money because I have been working crazy hours, a day off or two for when God rests, and back to it. Well, so this job fucking blows. Most of our customers are old ladies and grandpas, who can't hear a damned-thing, and they know the prices of every damned apple or beet, and they go home to look at their receipts because there is nothing else to do, and they will and do come back to us if they note a discrepancy, which is not a discrepancy at all but something that matters so little in the big picture that I wan't to blow my fucking brains out. 39 cents! It's likely I would have quite my first week if it weren't for the community there. I've shopped in the store for years so it's a very amicable work environment, they keep me sane. Other than that, the job is wreaking havoc on my social-life, I have incredible back-pains, and I'm losing weight at an alarming rate for the reason that I don't eat much anymore, for lack of time and appetite due to the stresses.
On the up-side: I am keeping with it, and saving up money for the Gold Coast. I want to live some low-income, burden-free life in a tin-roofed squat somewhere, writing the poetics. That's about all.
But now I've run off tangentially. So tell me about your awful job experiences. Oh also this summer I was working at a coffee shop for nearly two months and then they let me go! I can't keep any job, it's funny I think I'm suited to nothing practical. I should live in a bubble with the fellow bubble people.
On the up-side: I am keeping with it, and saving up money for the Gold Coast. I want to live some low-income, burden-free life in a tin-roofed squat somewhere, writing the poetics. That's about all.
But now I've run off tangentially. So tell me about your awful job experiences. Oh also this summer I was working at a coffee shop for nearly two months and then they let me go! I can't keep any job, it's funny I think I'm suited to nothing practical. I should live in a bubble with the fellow bubble people.
