My Worst Job

Following Rory's example, my worst job was where I spent two weeks with a friend working for his dad where the best of our two duties was to mow the doll factory's lawn (we used to fight over who's turn it was). The worst of the two duties was to sort leather remnants from the manufacture of furniture and car upholstery by color and texture into giant boxes, from which the underpaid immigrant women would construct dolls.

Talk about mind numbing... It drove home just how important it was to have a college degree.

I quit after two weeks because the amount of money I got for labor of that kind was nowhere near the degree of pain and suffering I endured, especially when I could just hang out at home for the summer. My friend, however, didn't get that choice. Poor bastard...

Hey, they weren't immigrants - they were Native Americans. It was part of the selling point of the dolls that they were some of the only Native American dolls made by Native Americans - underpaid Native Americans, but Native Americans nonetheless. And let me point out that you were not around for hauling the leather machine through Maple Lake and ripping up the city's sidewalk with a roller that was spitting off rubber as fast as you could pull (while trying not to attract the attention of the police and trying not to get crushed by something that clearly weighed close to half a ton), you weren't around for cleaning up part of the factory down south (in MN) after the river flooded, you weren't around for the farce that was the Maple Lake Tourism store, and you never had to do anything at the Mobridge, South Dakota, plant (although I must admit, most anything I did out there involved 72 hours of unfettered drinking and a bunch of board games).

My worst job was actually not too bad, but involved you and entailed pushing a rubber raft around a lake, feeling the bottom of the lake for weeds, yanking the weeds, and tossing them into the rubber raft, because a well off homeowner wasn't allowed to use weed killer in his lake. I think the bad part was working with you in a swimsuit ;)

Since I am married to the "poor bastard" from Chris's posting, I won't make any comments, other than to say the company is basically defunct - but the stories I could tell!
I'll play this game - my worst job was working at the egg plant in our home town for 2 weeks. I was hired by a temp agency and sent there. I had to wear boots, a long rubber apron and a hair net. The tasks included assembly line work for the egg patties you see in Egg McMuffins, those hideous omelets they used to sell and the chopped eggs for salad bars. They wanted me back after my time was up - I refused AND didn't eat eggs for a VERY long time.

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