Work Work Work

I was thinking about how much I hate my job the other day, and it got me to thinking about my entire working career. Looking back, I think I hated ALL my jobs at one point or another, but like my mom always told me, "They wouldn't call it WORK if it was fun." (Which actually isn't true. I mean, how about roller coater test-riders? I betcha THEIR job is fun!) The point is, after leaving said job, I can usually look back and think "Gee, that wasn't such a bad job after all, I mean, at least, compared to THIS sucky job!" Then I'd get a new job and repeat above comment, and so on and so on. Which could mean a couple of things, either one: I have a very short term memory after leaving bad jobs and only remember the good things; or two: I tend to overexaggerate how bad my jobs are. Honestly, I'm not really sure which of those is most accurate - it's probably a little of both.

But in my journey down employment memory lane, I also realized something else: I have been working, like, FOREVER, and I have had a HELL of a lot of jobs. Which means if they phase out social security before I can collect, I'm gonna be PISSED.

My very first real job was working at Baskin-Robbins at age 14. The owners took advantage of underage employees who wanted to make money and paid us only $2.50 an hour. And man, did we WORK. Summertime at Baskin-Robbins SUCKED. You worked your ass off scooping rock-solid ice cream, dealt with hot, sweaty and hungry customers, mopped floors, cleaned counters... All for $2.50 a friggin' hour. Think about it, if that were your full-time job, a 40 hour week would pay you $100. BEFORE taxes. Because, oh, yes, they took out taxes! That would be ILLEGAL if they didn't! And they could only get away with ONE illegal thing, apparently, which was underpaying minors to do slave labor. Ok, without a doubt, this job definitely SUCKED.

When I was 15, I applied at the hospital across the street to work in the dietary department, aka the kitchen. I lied about my age, got the job, and earned a whopping $4.75 an hour. (Hey - it was almost DOUBLE what I HAD been making!) But that job was fun. All we really did was work an assembly line and put food on trays for all the patients. Oh, and if an order for a "late tray" came in, we got the tray together and delivered it to the floor. The people I worked with were great - we had a little "dietary clique" going on. Anyone who applied for a job there that we didn't like usually didn't last long. On weekends, we all went to the Twin Drive-In and drank wine coolers and flirted - there were some hot guys working in dietary. (As a matter of fact, my first boyfriend was a co-worker. But he dumped me for my then best friend and is now gay - oh, that's definitely another story for another day.) I worked there for about two years, even got my brother a job there. Heh heh heh. I keep thinking of some of the better "dietary stories..." I will DEFINITELY have to devote some blog space to sharing those... Anyway - getting to the point: Dietary - GOOD job.

Then there was college, and after almost completing a full year, I returned home and got a job at Red Lobster as a cashier. See, now the funny thing is, I have nothing but good memories about the place, although I KNOW I hated the job. And I thought I was a really good employee, but I found an old review I received, and I apparently was a disgrace to the position. Seems I may have had a bit of an attitude - go figure. But I LOVED my coworkers. I had my first experience in dealing with openly gay men at Red Lobster, HILARIOUS. Tandy, Tom, Ed, Frank... those guys were a riot. I also enjoyed working there because I was young and attractive and all the straight males flirted with me. And all the women there were great - the older waitresses were like second mothers, the middle-aged ones and younger ones knew how to party. We always were out at the bars after work - and who needed an ID when you had a 40-something woman vouching for you? BUT - the Red Lobster I worked at was one of the busiest in the country and Friday and Saturday nights SUCKED. I would have a huge line of customers (excuse me - GUESTS) waiting to pay, and half of them would have complaints. Not to mention the fact that as cashier, I also had several other duties to attempt to perform during any (HA!) lulls. So those parts sucked. AND I got robbed once while working there. But afterward, the manager (who I happened to be dating) made me a Long Island to calm me down while the police got there, so it wasn't that bad. Ok, tally it up - Red Lobster: People - GOOD. Job itself - BAD. Money - Eh. Overall, I'd do it again. (And actually did, I got fired and rehired twice. Heh.)

Around that time, my parents were getting sick of me living at home and freeloading and sleeping all day before going to work at 4:00 and staying out all night. So they kindly SUGGESTED (translation - threatened me) I get a real 9 to 5. First try was at a paper manufacturing corporate office downtown. Worked out well, mindless work, really. But it was SO mindless I decided I couldn't handle it anymore, so I gave my notice. My boss was soooo upset he wasted all his time "training me" (??) he yelled and screamed and ended by saying "here's your check, I'm going to lunch." Since we got paid up to our actual payday, and he pissed me off, I decided to forego the notice and just leave. The receptionist called me at home that night to tell me no one even noticed I had left until the end of the day when no one brought the mail downstairs. How insulting! BAD JOB. Another 9 to 5 had me doing nothing. Literally. They created the position so I could break the receptionist. Which I did, three times a day, and I took my two half hour breaks and hour lunch (usually spent napping in the lounge) then spend the rest of the four hours staring at the wall. BAD JOB. (Well, I liked it in the beginning, but one can only do absolutely NOTHING for so long. And I didn't even have a computer.) Then 9 to 5 at the bank. Got to deal with people, who were usually ok, sometimes a real pain in the ass. Started dating the guy from the main branch who trained me, then found out he was my supervisor's ex-boyfriend. When SHE found out, my life became hell. Especially when they got back together. Verdict: BAD JOB.

And that's when I moved to Reno. TBOTE gets you through that part. Waitressing, change person at a casino, more waitressing waitressing waitressing... then paralegal-ing. Which is where I am now. Four different law firms, each with their own quirks. Lawyers are interesting people, let me tell you.

Someday, though, I am going to win the lottery and never work again. Or Lexie will be rich and take care of me. But for now, I shall suffer through. I will elaborate on the different law firms on another post, because I am tired of writing now. And I am hungry, and my lunch is here. (What a way to wrap things up, huh?)