Earlier in this newsletter, we looked at a list of seventy-five unusual or obsolete jobs, and I want to continue the conversation. What is the worst job you’ve ever had? I mean, a really bad job. Tell us about this awful job. When did you have this job? What did it require of you? Why was it such a bad job? How long did you stay in the position? How did you get out of that terrible job?
My worst job ever involved managing three hundred deckhands, cooks, mates, and captains on crew and supply boats, which serviced oilrigs in the Gulf of Mexico. Problems never happened during business hours. The fun usually began at 2:00 a.m. each morning. The phone rang nonstop, bringing me a crop of problems that never ceased to amaze. Someone doesn’t show up for crew change. Two deckhands are fighting over the thermostat on the boat’s air conditioner some two hundred miles offshore. An employee wants me to bond him out of jail. A deckhand is shooting at another crewmember with a line-throwing gun. The police and I were on a first-name basis while I had the job.
I worked in that capacity for about a year before someone offered me a position in mortgage banking. At the time, I didn’t even know mortgage had two Gs in it, but I was willing to try anything at that point. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than what I had. Thankfully, the new job worked out and turned into a twenty-eight-year career in the mortgage technology industry.
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Brenda O'Connor
The Worst Job I Ever Had
Many people would not think it was the worst job, and, in truth, it probably wasn’t anywhere near a really bad job, but it was the worst I ever had. It lasted half a day and nearly destroyed my ego!
I couldn’t do it. I tried. I concentrated. I followed instructions. But, I just couldn’t do it. Others working along side me were doing their jobs perfectly while engaging in lively conversations. I couldn’t let my mind think about conversation. I had to give full attention to the job.
It was June of 1961. I had just completed my freshman year of college and found a summer job to help with tuiton. It paid $1.00 an hour, which translated into $ 40.00 for the week and just over $500 for the summer. With my sophomore year tuition at $1,000, the $500 I’d give my parents would be a great help.
I had searched for a job and was happy to find this one. at the Signet Club Plan. To this day I have no idea how this “Club Plan” worked, but they advertised for help in the Cambridge Chronicle and I applied. While I waited for an interview, a friend’s father came into the office. Rather startled to see me, I quickly explained my presence. He was a sales rep for Ecko Pots and Pans and other kitchen goods and Signet was one of his clients.
He had a fairly short meeting to straighten out some glitch and refine an order, and then it was my turn. My interviewer seemed amused that I was seeking this job. He wondered why I even applied. I explained I needed the money to help with college tuition and he hired me. (I’ve often thought Rosemary’s father put in a good word for me.)
The job entailed stuffing large manilla envelopes with Signet Club Plan catalogues and colorful brochures. Half a dozen items were placed in the envelopes by several women on an assembly line. My seat near the end of the line required adding the last brochure to the already tightly packed envelope.
If you’ve seen Lucy and Ethel on the chocolate candy asembly line, you can picture what happened with me. Whether it was because of lthe ittle space for my brochure, my poor eye hand coordination, or the line gong faster than I could stuff the envelope, chaos ensued. The line had to be stopped so I could catch up. People stared at me, some snickered, some encouraged, most were more than a little frustrated. It did not get better no matter how hard I tried. The sound of the bell signalling a ten o’clock coffee break was blessed relief.
How can these other women do their work so well while chatting, laughing, singing along with the piped in music? What was wrong with me, I wondered. Near tears I nearly bumped into my boss. Heb asked to speak to me as I was about to enter the break room. He was very kind. He didn’t fire me. He did, however take me off the assembly line. He personally trained me for the Whitney Bowes Metering Machine. But that’s another story.
Joseph Glynn
The worst job I ever held was when I did market research (Latin for telemarketing without sales) in 1994 for a university research center. The job paid minimum wage, the training was a joke, and the office cubicle was suffocating. Suffice to say, I lasted about two hours before I grabbed my lunch bag and quit. During that two hours, I had no idea how to put on a telephone headset. Many would hang up as soon I said hello. I was cussed at from a woman in New Jersey who then threatened to call the police on me because I was telemarketing. Because of this job, I try to avoid occupations like customer service which require me to spend eight hours a day on the telephone. Will Rogers once said he never met a man he didn’t like. I can see he never worked in a job that required a great deal of telephone contact with the public.
Uma
The worst job I ever had was a temporary job that started 2 weeks before Thanksgiving and ended 1 week after New Year’s. The position was a “ticket agent” for American Airlines. This particular “agent” position was in baggage claim. I imagine they hired temps for this position, because they couldn’t keep regular staff if they put them there. I was the last American Airlines’ employee they would deal with after the worst trip of their lives, and we lost their bags. I think, in their minds, it was not we, it was I who lost their bags. It was me personally that lost, not only their clothes, but their child’s Cabbage Patch doll they stood in line for 2 days to get.
When I wasn’t being yelled at by angry passengers, I was chasing down lost luggage. I would meet the bags at every American flight. I would pull off the unclaimed luggage from the conveyor belt, load up a dolly with the bags I had claims for and chain up the rest for future searches. This all involved a lot of lifting heavy bags and a lot of running through the airport to quickly search for bags and hurry get back to the dungeon so a new group of angry passengers could tell me what a horrible human being I was. I think I lost 15 pounds in 6 weeks. My schedule was 7:00 am to 3:00pm. I had to leave my home at 6:15 to get to work on time. I would return home by 3:45. I think I would fall asleep before dinner most nights.
Because I was so fabulous at being abused all day, American offered me a full time position. They were actually surprised I turned it down. All I wanted was free flights. I realized I would rather pay for my flights or just stay home. Yes, definitely the worst job ever.