An ode to the joys of bad employment
We’ve all had them.
If you have anything to do with trying to tour, not being forever in debt and/or staying off people’s shit list, then you know what I’m talking about. People always ask, "how do you tour, how do you make money, how do you do it?" Well, kids I’ll tell ya -- you get a shitty-ass job!
Now I know everyone’s got there own shitty-ass job stories. I’ve heard a many in my day, but here’s a few of mine.
The first job I ever had was at a camp in the town that I lived in. It was some day camp where parents would drop of their kids while they went to their jobs in the summer and school (the babysitter) was out. I figured it would be an easy gig. One of my good friends at the time that was working there was the son of “the boss man." Only she was no man, she was a 90 pound completely, over sun tanned, 2 packs a day, yellow-teethed barrel of over stressed hormones. If you’ve seen kingpin and remember Roy’s landlord, then you know exactly what we were dealing with. I’d get as drunk as could the nights before work and show up early, hung over, pissed off and not wanting to do much but hang out. My usual business was making crafts with kids, then hang out with the kids that picked their nose and played in the dirt (stick with what you know I guess). That was the fun stuff.
The shitty part came in the form of the knowledge that my friends Mom (the boss lady landlord) was fucking one of the other dudes that worked there, who was right around the same age as us.
Now I know I live in NH, and maybe this doesn’t seem like it should be out of the ordinary, but it most certainly was. The kid she was fucking actually lived across the street from my friend and his Mom. We would go over hang out, have his Mom buy us beers, and then just be weirded out by this dude being there, obviously fucking his Mom. I guess looking back on it she was a real mess at the time, her husband left her just out of the blue and never told anyone where he was till like five years later.
Basically shit hit the fan towards the end of the summer camp session that year, and all the kids' parents were pissed when they found out about all the shenanigans that were happening around their young, impressionable children. I reapplied the following year only to find out they canned the whole staff due to all this. So another shitty-ass job was in my future.
Kev (the other guitarist) told myself and another good friend that a local amusement park was hiring some people on for the summer. We go to this orientation that was a fucking joke and all got assigned jobs via the mail. Back then people actually used mail (good God I am fucking old). Kev and our other friend got assigned as game attendants. Sweet job, just sit around and wait for people to come by throw a few balls and either give them a prize or don’t. I however get assigned park duty. No idea what that means till I get there.
I show up, have my Mom drop me off at the park. Punch in, get a shirt then handed a radio. I think to myself what the fuck is this, a radio. Well I must be important, they say if this thing rings or beeps and someone says 520, code for cleanup then I have to go respond. I nod and agree and I’m off. We’re told that myself and the other park duty employee have to work in sections of the park. I take the right, he takes the left side. I think, hell yeah, this is way easier t
hen games that Kev and the other guy had. All I had to do was walk around the park pick up trash with a duster and pan and that’s it. Kinda embarrassing, but whatever I was young and it was easy money. So I thought.
After about 20 minutes of doing this, I was bored out of my fucking mind. There's are only so many cigarette buts you can pick up before your brain goes numb. So I’m like, fuck this, I’ll meet up with the other kid on the other side of the park doing the same shit as me and at the very least we can bitch about it to each other till we can go home. I walk over, see the kid, say something like, "wow this sucks huh?" He looks at me real wild eyed, doesn’t say anything for almost a minute, then mumbles something I couldn’t understand. I soon realize the kid is mentally challenged. I’m not one to boost about any type of ego, but I was working the same job of a mentally challenged kid -- fuck, I’m doing a job of a retard. (side note: I have nothing against mentally challenged retards at all, in fact I look at this photo at least a few times a week to remind myself that happiness is actually achievable to a lucky few).
So I head back to my side of the park and the phone I have starts beeping, and a voice comes over saying 520 over at the roller coaster. I ignore the call then it comes back again and then again getting angrier at each call until I respond, saying I’ll be right there. Mind you at this point I have no idea what 520 stands for other then cleanup, I’m not even sure why they’re using code. All I know is I don’t want to do shit.
I get over there and see a huge crowd gathered around near the roller coaster. They see me coming in my park shirt and start howling and making the sounds you would if you saw a bad accident, although some people were smiling like they were about to egg me or something. I get closer and find out what a 520 is…Puke!. Some asshole rode the rollercoaster couldn’t stomach the French fries, hamburgers, and whatever shit food he pumped his stomach up with before he decided to heave it all over the ground for some innocent clump like myself to pick up.
I throw some cat litter looking stuff on it all the while getting hazed by the on lookers and walk away. I called my Mom about half way into my first shift and said I quit, come pick me up I’m done. I didn’t tell any of those fuckers I just walked out and left. Fuck that place! Kev actually ended up getting fired and our other friend quit after his second day. Yes-20-indeed, fuck that place and whoever puked up nasty park food residual that was left over for the next chump.
Next job was at a convenient store, drank beer in the bathroom while working all the time, stole beer and supplied a few parties with it. Did a bunch of pills and drank a shit ton showed up to work after not sleeping and got fired for apparently “Not answering customers questions when asked." I guess some lady was asking me about the muffins we had and I was just staring at her not saying a word till finally she left. Don’t remember any of that, but that’s what I was told when I got fired. Shit job number 3.
and so on and so on.
Get in a shitty band, get a shitty ass job and ruin your shitty ass fuck life!