What is the worst job you have ever had?
Discussion
Probably not the worst job in the world, but I utterly hated it: 1980-ish, got a job cold-calling in a company Chevette trying to flog office furniture to random businesses, 99.9% of whom didn't want or need a new chair or desk. Got friendly with the equally disillusioned stationery rep and we used to meet up in a discreet location & play snooker for an hour or two every morning.
Became quite good at snooker but was fired after nine months for not selling much office furniture.
Became quite good at snooker but was fired after nine months for not selling much office furniture.
Was in a factory in China before Xmas, where the workers were known as "9-9-6" staff.
They were slogging 9am to 9pm 6 days a week, usually expected to do some overtime on their day off, with only ~10 days' holiday a year, surrounded every day by chemical fumes and micro dust.
If they made too many production mistakes, or arrived late more than once a month, or got ill or exhausted, they were fired on the spot with zero notice and evicted the next day from their factory-provided apartment (single room). For every available job, there were 5-10 people fresh from the countryside lining up to fill their positions.
They were slogging 9am to 9pm 6 days a week, usually expected to do some overtime on their day off, with only ~10 days' holiday a year, surrounded every day by chemical fumes and micro dust.
If they made too many production mistakes, or arrived late more than once a month, or got ill or exhausted, they were fired on the spot with zero notice and evicted the next day from their factory-provided apartment (single room). For every available job, there were 5-10 people fresh from the countryside lining up to fill their positions.
First job when I was 17 (only 4 years ago). Glass collection and cleaning in a small nightclub. Start work at 9pm, collect glasses, clean vomit, stock up drinks etc until 5am. Then have to clean the toilets, the ladies are worse in case anyone was interested, then leave at 6am. All for a whopping £30 a night, off the books
nute said:
Abattoir, back in the 1980's, summer job as a student. Live chickens and turkeys in one end and frozen or fresh out the other. Gross work and some of the regular full time staff were nuts, but for back then the money was ok.
Abbatoir for me too aged 16. Turkeys, ducks and chickens, thousands of the things. I got to watch them get stunned, stuck in a cone and then have their throat slit. I had to pull the remaining feather bits out after they'd been through a washing machine thing. Crap job but it allowed me to earn enough money to buy myself an N64. Good times. I obtained my lifeguard qualification shortly afterwards which was a much better job in every way.Easter 1990 I worked in a battery hen egg farm. The stench is something I’ll never forget and the way I’d walk out with 2-3inches of turd attached to my trainers.
Sometimes I had to remove the odd severed head that’d been lopped off by the feed machine.
Another lasted two days trying to sell aerial photographs to households.
Oh and lastly having to put up with Nev and the morons booking jobs as featured in the TV show The Call Centre
Sometimes I had to remove the odd severed head that’d been lopped off by the feed machine.
Another lasted two days trying to sell aerial photographs to households.
Oh and lastly having to put up with Nev and the morons booking jobs as featured in the TV show The Call Centre
Commission-only Life Insurance sales for an outfit called General Portfolio in Birmingham in 1990. I walked out on the Friday of the second week of my “training course”.
I worked opposite their office in a decent job before that, but had my head turned by their fleet of salesmen turning up in great PH metal, the boss had an Aston Virage and one of the reps a TVR S3, another an Esprit Turbo. I wanted part of that action.
They were a horrible bunch of shysters, offering anyone who could write their name a job, provided they could bring a list of 40 ‘contacts, that the newly trained recruit could cold-call. I was 18 and knew about five other working adults outside my immediate family, all of whom would’ve told me to f
k off if I’d cold called them. Therefore after the second forced phone call on a Friday night I told them I wasn’t going to do it any more, walked out, refused to give them my list of people, which they got very shirty about. It only dawned on me then that they didn’t give a st if you were any good or not, they just wanted your list of 40 names for a hardened sleazeball to hit hard. I’ve never felt so good to tell someone to ps off as it did when they phoned me on the following Monday to reconsider.
In the end it did me a favour. I found myself skint, out of work, needing a job having passed up the opportunity to go to University by ditching my A levels. It was a short, sharp reality check, I got back into education via evening classes at my local college, A levels done, degree, boom.
Whenever I get cold-called now I try to be polite to them, as I know the person calling would probably prefer not to be doing it, and probably has some proper c u n t of a sales manager breathing down their neck. Never again for me.
ETA: I never really cared for what happened to that bunch of w ankers, but pleased to see it all ended in tears for them. Unfortunately the people at the top haven't seen the inside of a prison cell. https://www.theguardian.com/money/2001/dec/08/pens...
I worked opposite their office in a decent job before that, but had my head turned by their fleet of salesmen turning up in great PH metal, the boss had an Aston Virage and one of the reps a TVR S3, another an Esprit Turbo. I wanted part of that action.
They were a horrible bunch of shysters, offering anyone who could write their name a job, provided they could bring a list of 40 ‘contacts, that the newly trained recruit could cold-call. I was 18 and knew about five other working adults outside my immediate family, all of whom would’ve told me to f
k off if I’d cold called them. Therefore after the second forced phone call on a Friday night I told them I wasn’t going to do it any more, walked out, refused to give them my list of people, which they got very shirty about. It only dawned on me then that they didn’t give a st if you were any good or not, they just wanted your list of 40 names for a hardened sleazeball to hit hard. I’ve never felt so good to tell someone to ps off as it did when they phoned me on the following Monday to reconsider. In the end it did me a favour. I found myself skint, out of work, needing a job having passed up the opportunity to go to University by ditching my A levels. It was a short, sharp reality check, I got back into education via evening classes at my local college, A levels done, degree, boom.
Whenever I get cold-called now I try to be polite to them, as I know the person calling would probably prefer not to be doing it, and probably has some proper c u n t of a sales manager breathing down their neck. Never again for me.
ETA: I never really cared for what happened to that bunch of w ankers, but pleased to see it all ended in tears for them. Unfortunately the people at the top haven't seen the inside of a prison cell. https://www.theguardian.com/money/2001/dec/08/pens...
Edited by PurpleTurtle on Friday 23 February 11:01
Yipper said:
Was in a factory in China before Xmas, where the workers were known as "9-9-6" staff.
They were slogging 9am to 9pm 6 days a week, usually expected to do some overtime on their day off, with only ~10 days' holiday a year, surrounded every day by chemical fumes and micro dust.
If they made too many production mistakes, or arrived late more than once a month, or got ill or exhausted, they were fired on the spot with zero notice and evicted the next day from their factory-provided apartment (single room). For every available job, there were 5-10 people fresh from the countryside lining up to fill their positions.
But that’s simply not true is it ... that’s multiple media outlet regurgitated slurry combined to create and even falser ‘story’They were slogging 9am to 9pm 6 days a week, usually expected to do some overtime on their day off, with only ~10 days' holiday a year, surrounded every day by chemical fumes and micro dust.
If they made too many production mistakes, or arrived late more than once a month, or got ill or exhausted, they were fired on the spot with zero notice and evicted the next day from their factory-provided apartment (single room). For every available job, there were 5-10 people fresh from the countryside lining up to fill their positions.
PurpleTurtle said:
Commission-only Life Insurance sales for an outfit called General Portfolio in Birmingham in 1990. I walked out on the Friday of the second week of my “training course”.
I worked opposite their office in a decent job before that, but had my head turned by their fleet of salesmen turning up in great PH metal, the boss had an Aston Virage and one of the reps a TVR S3, another an Esprit Turbo. I wanted part of that action.
They were a horrible bunch of shysters, offering anyone who could write their name a job, provided they could bring a list of 40 ‘contacts, that the newly trained recruit could cold-call.
I've always been an IT contractor and for some odd reason back in 2003 I thought that I'd like to try a bit of recruitment. I worked really hard to get the job - it involved making presentations to hardened sales types, which I was pretty good at. I thought that somehow I'd be able to try some new angles using my industry experience.I worked opposite their office in a decent job before that, but had my head turned by their fleet of salesmen turning up in great PH metal, the boss had an Aston Virage and one of the reps a TVR S3, another an Esprit Turbo. I wanted part of that action.
They were a horrible bunch of shysters, offering anyone who could write their name a job, provided they could bring a list of 40 ‘contacts, that the newly trained recruit could cold-call.
But no. It was cold calling, and with my industry experience I know just how much IT managers hate getting badgered by recruitment consultants. As with PurpleTurtle I realised that they were just after me using my contacts. The final straw was when I came up with a really decent lead in that could have led to many placements and an ongoing relationship - and it needed my French speaking. That was instantly taken off me and given to a senior guy. I left that day, but I'd hated it anyway. I'm not sure how long I was there - two weeks?
I also once got a jpermie ob as a web developer at a lettings insurance provider near Bury. Small place but just too confining, with a 17 year old PA telling me off for using my phone. Lasted 5 days.
Looking at a lot of the stuff others have posted on this thread I now realise how lucky I have been - 16 got an after school job in my local Tesco frozen food dept (all the full timers during the day had filled it all so I just did the odd top up, played pool upstairs, drank vodka with the cleaner then lobbed the empty bottles down the compactor and shagged my girlfriend (who I met there who also worked part time) in the warehouse bit round the back (or anywhere else we could find). Happy days. And when I left in 1987 to go to Uni it was only the week before I finished that the HR manageress clocked that I had spent two years being paid for 22.5 hours a week and had only been working 15 hours a week - "didn't you see this on your payslip?" she demanded. "No, I replied, I thought it was some kind of code".
After that I've only been in IT (apart from the recruitment "episode")soad said:
Riley Blue said:
Builder's labourer when I was a student in the '60s. I worked in a building where there had been a fire, stripping out asbestos before the building trade was really clued up about the risks.
I worked as a breakfast/lunch waiter in a pretty upmarket Edinburgh hotel while I was at uni. 6am to early afternoon each day. Rivetting stuff like making dozens of pots of coffee, setting 100+ table places in the function suite etc. TBH most of the punters were fine, but there were always a few that assumed you had an IQ of 80 and you'd chosen hotel waiter rather than Burger King for your career. We'd regularly have coachloads of tourists to feed. Highlights included the entire USA geriatric coach party standing up to sing the Star Spangled Banner before brekky, bemused Japanese with black pudding, Weetabix and milk in the same bowl and a tartan-trousered gentleman from Bumfk Idaho asking if it was possible to walk from the hotel to St Andrews.
I once delivered a metal dish of kippers to some sneering business type who was in a hurry. Said dish had been under a heat lamp in the kitchen for about 10 minutes and was at the same temperature as ground zero at Hiroshima. I carry it out with several napkins as a heatshield. "Careful sir, the dish is hot." After a dismissive wave he grabs the dish with a bare hand and launches his kippers about halfway across the restaurant. The fire alarm was always going off spuriously, resulting in the guests being chucked out into the street until Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb arrived. The number of punters that proceeded to leg it rather than go back and pay was impressive for a 4 star hotel.
Doing daily shifts, week on week with the SAME muzak tape played throughout the hotel on a continuous loop without ever being changed was actually one of the worst parts. I think the management eventually did some consulting to the people that ran Guantanamo. Before I joined the hotel some dumb waiter climbed into the kitchen dumb waiter lift for a laugh and suffered fatal traumatic amputation. It used to prey on my mind whenever I was next to it making toast in the morning. I used to think "better not climb into that". Eventually I packed it in after some utter sheath of a manager tried to coach me on cutlery drying techniques.
k Idaho asking if it was possible to walk from the hotel to St Andrews.I once delivered a metal dish of kippers to some sneering business type who was in a hurry. Said dish had been under a heat lamp in the kitchen for about 10 minutes and was at the same temperature as ground zero at Hiroshima. I carry it out with several napkins as a heatshield. "Careful sir, the dish is hot." After a dismissive wave he grabs the dish with a bare hand and launches his kippers about halfway across the restaurant. The fire alarm was always going off spuriously, resulting in the guests being chucked out into the street until Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb arrived. The number of punters that proceeded to leg it rather than go back and pay was impressive for a 4 star hotel.
Doing daily shifts, week on week with the SAME muzak tape played throughout the hotel on a continuous loop without ever being changed was actually one of the worst parts. I think the management eventually did some consulting to the people that ran Guantanamo. Before I joined the hotel some dumb waiter climbed into the kitchen dumb waiter lift for a laugh and suffered fatal traumatic amputation. It used to prey on my mind whenever I was next to it making toast in the morning. I used to think "better not climb into that". Eventually I packed it in after some utter sheath of a manager tried to coach me on cutlery drying techniques.
Working at Bentley Motors. Surprisingly backward in the design department with the technology I deploy. Very anti-contractors (I’m an IT contractor). A company that’s supposedly very conscious about its profile, yet allows the shop floor workers to kick around outside the company gates at lunchtime while smoking, as smoking is banned onsite.
But by far the worst bit was the cringeworthy walk past the completed cars thar were parked outside the production line, especially when the current Flying Spur was just being launched. Luckily I had left by the time the SUV launched. Just hideous cars.
But by far the worst bit was the cringeworthy walk past the completed cars thar were parked outside the production line, especially when the current Flying Spur was just being launched. Luckily I had left by the time the SUV launched. Just hideous cars.
1982 Abattoir Clerk at Baxter’s Hardingstone just outside Northampton, now all gone and a housing estate is now where it one was.
In the early 1980’s it was the largest meat processing plant in Europe and was a truly depressing place to work, only upside was that it was so bad it ended up pushing me into making something of myself.
In the early 1980’s it was the largest meat processing plant in Europe and was a truly depressing place to work, only upside was that it was so bad it ended up pushing me into making something of myself.
Edited by Gunk on Friday 23 February 23:10
Trainee radiographer in 1971. The first job of a morning was wiping down the X-ray gear with meths - talk about fire risk. I aso had to take used enema bags/pipes and dispose of them. Whiffy job.
Moulding chairs in a plastics oufit. After each mould was filled with injected foamy stuff, I had to run a 1/8in drill through 24 overflow points per chair.
Night shift in the Sunblest factory near Bredbury (pun not intended). I had to change tins from large white to mini Hovis and back on the ine, wearing flappy asbestos hand protectors. We had to drink special water from little conical cups. Hell's kitchen with too many burns.Insanely hot working conditions.
Collecting eggs in a hen battery. Some decapitations from the rolling feeder but the worse thing was the eggs missing the shell.They had the membrane and werte roughly egg-shaped but were soft and ultra fragile. The continuous clucking noise drove me nuts.
Spraying a rubber-like coating on to bits of sound deadening foam bound for Bedford CF vans.
Photographer/illustrator at Man Uni medical. It was a bit like the army, in that I was either working like a loon or bored brainless. Interesting work though. Wearing a white coat and film badge brought many unusual questions from patients. Sadly, it was a dead-end job.
Selling car spares and paint at Brown Bros. in Stockport. By choice I became a delivery van driver for them.
Moulding chairs in a plastics oufit. After each mould was filled with injected foamy stuff, I had to run a 1/8in drill through 24 overflow points per chair.
Night shift in the Sunblest factory near Bredbury (pun not intended). I had to change tins from large white to mini Hovis and back on the ine, wearing flappy asbestos hand protectors. We had to drink special water from little conical cups. Hell's kitchen with too many burns.Insanely hot working conditions.
Collecting eggs in a hen battery. Some decapitations from the rolling feeder but the worse thing was the eggs missing the shell.They had the membrane and werte roughly egg-shaped but were soft and ultra fragile. The continuous clucking noise drove me nuts.
Spraying a rubber-like coating on to bits of sound deadening foam bound for Bedford CF vans.
Photographer/illustrator at Man Uni medical. It was a bit like the army, in that I was either working like a loon or bored brainless. Interesting work though. Wearing a white coat and film badge brought many unusual questions from patients. Sadly, it was a dead-end job.
Selling car spares and paint at Brown Bros. in Stockport. By choice I became a delivery van driver for them.
Bailiff in south Wales.
Court bailiff so pukka; driving from Worcester every day was the best bit (don't st on your own doorstep), going to places that time had forgot and police were never seen, generally depressing and depressed areas, loads of aggro and loads of befuddled people fallen foul of the system. It served it's purpose but crikey it was dreadful.
'Bouncer' in a sex shop in Sydney.
Interesting job for sure, but the mid-floor was a rent by the hour series of rooms for local ladies to entertain gentlemen for a short romantic interlude. Of course, all the girls were junkies and when I saw the calf deep layer of empty needles thrown on to the flat roof under the toilet window I spent the rest of the time opening doors etc with my elbows and knees with hands firmly in pockets. Some comic moments involving cucumbers and vibrators but otherwise quite a sordid and depressing underbelly.
Court bailiff so pukka; driving from Worcester every day was the best bit (don't s
t on your own doorstep), going to places that time had forgot and police were never seen, generally depressing and depressed areas, loads of aggro and loads of befuddled people fallen foul of the system. It served it's purpose but crikey it was dreadful.'Bouncer' in a sex shop in Sydney.
Interesting job for sure, but the mid-floor was a rent by the hour series of rooms for local ladies to entertain gentlemen for a short romantic interlude. Of course, all the girls were junkies and when I saw the calf deep layer of empty needles thrown on to the flat roof under the toilet window I spent the rest of the time opening doors etc with my elbows and knees with hands firmly in pockets. Some comic moments involving cucumbers and vibrators but otherwise quite a sordid and depressing underbelly.
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