Dave

I have a farm on which I raise cattle.

Once each year the cattle have to be pregnancy checked. Any cow that is not pregnant is sold.

To pregnancy check a cow, I have to stick my arm up the cow's butt all the way up to my shoulder. I can feel around and feel the calf if the cow is bred. Shit gets all over everything and they piss all over me too. Some of them kick. They cannot kick when you are in there about shoulder deep, however.

I have to test about 150 of them and the pen is right beside the road and anyone that comes by sees me. Thank goodness I only have to do it once a year.

I once worked at an amusement park operating the carnival games. I had a great voice and acted about like Tom Green (I was 15) so they put me on a microphone game, unfortunately it was balloon race. The object of the game was to shoot a water guns' stream of water into a clown's mouth thereby inflating the balloon on the clowns head. The first balloon to pop won a prize. I think they were tiny Spuds Mckenzie dolls.

The game was horrible because kids would shoot me with the water gun and if I didn't drop the microphone quick enough it would shock the hell out of me. The microphone cable always had shorts in it but the park would take two days to fix it. I stayed wet all day and the green polyester uniform pants were the worst thing to wear when wet. After every game I had to replace the balloons that popped, usually about 200 a day. The remnants of the bottom of the balloons were always wet and my fingers would get waterlogged, numb, then blistered, from constantly stretching them to pull them off the air valve. The popping balloons were deafening. I walked all day in a puddle of water which occasionally would cause a good shock, and my feet also would get blistered. Old religious women sometimes even Mennonites would complain that I gave their kid a beer mascot and that minors shouldn't even be allowed to gamble. The worst thing of all was that the largest balloon would often pop second or third and some redneck marksman would bitch that he lost to a little kid because his balloon was defective. I never told them that society lost because his father's condom was defective. The park was open until Halloween so sometimes I would be wet all day in sub freezing weather

After a month of this my eardrum ruptured and I got transferred to the Whack-a-mole game which was really fun and even easier to steal from. Every game I worked made more than when anyone else would work it. Usually on my shift the game would make about $1500 - for this I was paid $3.35 an hour and worked 15 hour days sometimes.

The worst job I have ever had was my very first one. I worked at an Ice Cream parlor. The boss was nice but she was never there, it was the assistant manager who drove me insane. Whatever I did she would yell at me.

How many scoops of ice cream were needed in a sundae, how much cream was too much in the soft serve machine... whatever I did wasn't good enough. Until one day she told me to get a new vat of thickened cream from the fridge I had had enough there. I hated getting the cream vats. They were huge plastic bags of flavored cream that weighed 7 pounds each. I had to open up a cardboard box that contained 3 of them. This time when I opened it a whole ton of cream spilt out all over me! Apparently two of the vats had split open during the shipping and now it had soaked the box, the entire interior of the refrigerator, the floor surrounding it and me. I told the assistant manager and she screamed at me!

She made me clean up the mess by myself with no help from anyone and then threatened to tell my boss to fire me! So I spent two hours on my hands and knees cleaning up 14 pounds of cream, that had the consistency of flour and water mixed together, by myself in tears. I didn't quit because my employees turned the girl in and she was the one who got fired.

Sheila

I have a farm on which I raise cattle.

Once each year the cattle have to be pregnancy checked. Any cow that is not pregnant is sold.

To pregnancy check a cow, I have to stick my arm up the cow's butt all the way up to my shoulder. I can feel around and feel the calf if the cow is bred. Shit gets all over everything and they piss all over me too. Some of them kick. They cannot kick when you are in there about shoulder deep, however.

I have to test about 150 of them and the pen is right beside the road and anyone that comes by sees me. Thank goodness I only have to do it once a year.

Back when I was sixteen I had a summer job working as a housekeeper at a retirement home. Most days it wasn't too bad. I'd make beds, change towels, play toilet paper fairy...maybe empty a few adult diaper pails.

But then there was this one day...

I went to the laundry room, and Pat the laundry lady said, "could you go up to Mrs. (Blank)'s room and get her sheets? She wet the bed." No problem. Peed-on sheets were a common enough occurrence that it didn't bother me. But when I got to the room, I realized that she was just trying to be discreet. Mrs. Blank had gotten diarrhea and had done it all in her bed. The nurses had cleaned up the initial mess in the bed, so I just took the wet sheets down to the laundry room. That's when I looked in her bathroom and saw what job lay ahead for me.

I don't know what she ate, but she had produced enough diarrhea to completely hose her bathroom, too! I don't think she got any in the toilet; it was all over the floor and walls. Not splatters, either. It was an even layer about a half inch thick. I put on three pairs of latex gloves. I used about a dozen rags, and threw every one out. What I really needed was a shovel! I refused to breathe through my nose, and I used so much sanitizer that I was breathing it in. I was choking on it, and gagging from the mess. I almost threw up! But I did it.

I cleaned up all the diarrhea.

I used to work for a small city at the sewer treatment plant. Now it seems that everyone in the city would pour their grease down the sink. This grease would cool when it got into the sewer lines and form into balls. Grease, as we all know, is not the the only thing that flows through the sewer lines of a city, so the grease balls were not made up entirely of grease. Grease does not process well in the treatment plant so the grease balls had to be removed before the sewage could go through the plant.

You guessed it, my job was to stand alongside the raw sewage trough and with my trusty lawn rake remove all the grease balls.

Kate

I have a farm on which I raise cattle.

Once each year the cattle have to be pregnancy checked. Any cow that is not pregnant is sold.

To pregnancy check a cow, I have to stick my arm up the cow's butt all the way up to my shoulder. I can feel around and feel the calf if the cow is bred. Shit gets all over everything and they piss all over me too. Some of them kick. They cannot kick when you are in there about shoulder deep, however.

I have to test about 150 of them and the pen is right beside the road and anyone that comes by sees me. Thank goodness I only have to do it once a year.

I am a housekeeper in a 4 star hotel. I thought, heck, I can clean my room how different could this be. Ha. Let me just tell you about last week. I start off the day at 7 in the morning, which means I have to be out of bed at 6 on a Saturday and Sunday. I get my list of Rooms which has 15 rooms to clean on it. All of which have to be done by 3 o'clock. In the first room I was cleaning out the sheets and what do I find, a used condom. Eww. I actually had to pick it up and carry it to the trash. Then in the next room some people left a big clump hair on the floor. It's like they decided to get a hair cut in the bathroom of a hotel 'cause they knew they wouldn't have to clean it.

In addition to this I found seven pairs of dirty underwear which had to be labeled and left in lost and found. I found a lollipop stuck to the ceiling which had to be yanked off and the ceiling scrubbed, which involved me standing on 2 chairs and falling off once. Then the worst part of my day, I had to go change this one room's towels and glasses. I knocked on the door and nobody answered. They didn't have a "do not disturb sign" so I just unlocked the door and went in thinking they were at lunch or something. As I open the door, there stands a hairy overweight 40 year old male, naked as the day he was born. I just shut the door, left the towels on the floor and ran in another room. And at 3 when all the rooms were done, I was told to stock the attics with shampoo and soap stuff. This means getting the 30-40 lb boxes and carrying them up 6 stories, stairs, for 2 hours. When I get out at 5:00 I get to go eat lunch and go home, and then I sleep till I have to wake up the next day and do it all over again. All for $5.50 an hour.

I work at a photo store developing photos. Normally, this is not such a bad job. It's boring, but hey, it's a job. What makes my job bad is when we get porn orders. Some people don't realize that all the photos they bring in have to be checked. Personally. By ME. I have to look at every single one, to make sure the colour's ok, and that there's no dust, etc. Sometimes people, especially old wrinkly people, feel compelled to take pictures of themselves in the nude, or having sex. I've seen elderly people in bondage, lesbians having sex, close ups of people peeing, and various other things that you might normally find in Hustler.

One time, someone brought in an order of about 80 pictures that they wanted blown up. All the shots were Playboy poses, of women naked or in lingerie, sprawled out all over the place. I had to go through every single one.

Sometimes the porn we get is of people I know. It's nasty to see your teacher naked, or your lab partner. The worst is when you print the porn, and then have to give it to the person in the pictures when they come to pick it up. That's my bad job.

Kate
The New Champ!

A couple years ago, I was having problems finding a job. I had just moved with my family to a more or less industrial section of New Jersey, and with not owning a car, finding something was getting difficult. The area where we had moved to had a lot of immigrants living in it, and most of the shops and businesses were family owned, and didn't want to employ an outsider.

But I finally found a job, at a fish factory! What did I do at this job? I gutted squid. How awful is that?? But I needed some money, and it seemed this was the only place I would find some. My typical day started out getting up at 4:30 a.m. We were supposed to be at work at 5:30. So I would put on some old clothes, and these knee high rubber boots and trudge my way to work, getting there before the sun came up.

All of the women who worked there (only the women gutted, the men did a much less menial job, go figure!) were from Portugal, or so it seemed. So all that was spoken was Portugese! I don't speak a word of anything other than English, but soon figured out through trial and error the words for 'I have to use the bathroom." and other necessary phrases. I would also like to point out that ALL of these women were quite short, not one of them over 5'6'', so they all stood on this long wooden bench that stretched from one end of the conveyer belt to the other, so they could reach to do their jobs. Me? I'm 5'11''. But I'm still having to stand on these benches, because there is nowhere else to get in line.

So after a couple hours, I would have a screaming backache from having to keep bent over to reach what I was doing.

And gutting squid is disgusting!!! After ripping out the head (which went into a trough), you have to reach inside with your fingers, and pull out all of their internal organs. But you have to do it just right, because if you don't, you end up busting the ink sack, which squirts all over the place! I can't tell you how many times I had busted that damned sack in the middle of a yawn (with having to be there before GOD was awake and all) and getting all this nasty, disgusting inky fluid squirted in my mouth!

Now add to all this that the water in which the squid is sitting in is around 30 degrees or so, and still has chunks of ice floating around in it. This is what you have to reach into continuously! Of course we wore gloves, but they didn't protect enough. Nothing would have! So your fingers are frozen numb. By quitting time, I was sore, exhausted, starved (cuz I couldn't bring myself to eat there!) and frozen. So I slowly walk home, being followed by cats. Lots and lots of cats. Why? Because I REEK of fish!! No one will allow me in the house, and I had to strip out of work clothes on the porch and throw on something I had left there in the morning before I left. Then I had to run into the bathroom before I stunk up the house. By the time I got out of the shower, I was feeling almost human. And looking forward to the next day of work... ugh.... And I did this six days a week, for 2 months, for a whopping $4.50 an hour!!

At least now, I appreciate whatever job I am working, because it will never be as bad as gutting squid!!

I am a housekeeper in a 4 star hotel. I thought, heck, I can clean my room how different could this be. Ha. Let me just tell you about last week. I start off the day at 7 in the morning, which means I have to be out of bed at 6 on a Saturday and Sunday. I get my list of Rooms which has 15 rooms to clean on it. All of which have to be done by 3 o'clock. In the first room I was cleaning out the sheets and what do I find, a used condom. Eww. I actually had to pick it up and carry it to the trash. Then in the next room some people left a big clump hair on the floor. It's like they decided to get a hair cut in the bathroom of a hotel 'cause they knew they wouldn't have to clean it.

In addition to this I found seven pairs of dirty underwear which had to be labeled and left in lost and found. I found a lollipop stuck to the ceiling which had to be yanked off and the ceiling scrubbed, which involved me standing on 2 chairs and falling off once. Then the worst part of my day, I had to go change this one room's towels and glasses. I knocked on the door and nobody answered. They didn't have a "do not disturb sign" so I just unlocked the door and went in thinking they were at lunch or something. As I open the door, there stands a hairy overweight 40 year old male, naked as the day he was born. I just shut the door, left the towels on the floor and ran in another room. And at 3 when all the rooms were done, I was told to stock the attics with shampoo and soap stuff. This means getting the 30-40 lb boxes and carrying them up 6 stories, stairs, for 2 hours. When I get out at 5:00 I get to go eat lunch and go home, and then I sleep till I have to wake up the next day and do it all over again. All for $5.50 an hour.

I too am from Nova Scotia, which I am beginning to believe is the home of all the worst jobs in the world! Anyways, not that I'm proud of it, but I was the lucky employee of satan!

Last summer I worked with my Uncle's dredging company, He's based in Halifax, and for all of you that don't know, it's the largest harbour in the world, so, I helped out with the dredging, I have my first level of scuba diving, and the odd time I would go diving to fix kinked moorings off of the dredging barge, as if that isn't gross enough, Halifax pumps thousands of raw sewage into the harbour each day, but there was one day... oh yes.. An American Air Craft Carrier came to the harbour and dumped straight into the harbour about 800,000 gallons of sewage, it filled the harbour and because it had been on-board for so long, the crap had clumped up and turned to a compact matter, let's just put it this way, I was in charge of swimming through pure brown chocolate milky water to find the thick hunks of feces and break them apart. Even though I wore a dry suit, I still had to touch to water the odd time, and I literally bathed in tomato juice for a week!!!

BEAT THAT!

I spent most of my sophomore/junior year of high school working at a indoor children's playground. Sounds fun, right? Not.

My normal responsibilities where bad, but tolerable. I had to host parties and entertain kids and serve pizza and hot dogs and generally listen to whiny little rugrats. What made the job a real winner was when there was a mess.

Here's a list of the numerous things I was forced to clean up in front of hundreds of screaming kids while I suffered through yet another migraine:

Puke - I lost count of how many times I cleaned up cheap, nasty regurgitated pizza. One kid covered about 20 or 30 sq. feet of the floor. Oh yeah, another thing, when you're in an enclosed, confined space, such as the tubes that were part of the playground, the smell is much, much worse.

Feces - You'd be amazed how difficult it is for some kids to get it in the can.

Urine - This one was my favourite. In the kiddie area there was a little puddle of urine in one of the tubes, and then dozens of little sock prints going in every direction where 2 and 3 year olds had just run through it and tracked it everywhere.

It was all worth it when I got the raise from $4.50/hr to $4.65/hr after 8 months.

Last summer I worked as an au pair for a family who lives in the South of France. Great job, right? I would just play with three adorable kids all day, visit France, and get paid for the honour, right? No.

They expected me to work seven days of seven, which is technically against French law, in exchange for the fact that I did not cook or clean, which all French au pairs are expected to do. So I wasn't going to be able to visit Paris even. My day started at a humane 8 or 9 o'clock, but lasted until the parents got home at 8 or 9 o'clock!

The little five-year-old twins were the best part. Oh, they were cute all right, right up until the point when they stopped being intimidated by me (the second day) and started insulting me. Since I'd recently shaved my head for my high school graduation, I still had short, nearly non-existent hair. They made fun of my round head ("like a lollipop") and my clothing. I love bright colours, but they apparently did not.

What was my favourite colour? they would ask. When I replied "green," they demanded how I could be wearing a bright yellow shirt. Oh, and they liked red, but NOT the red in my skirt. My bathing suit, a standard black, was immediately "moche" - ugly. My French was far from perfect, but when the girls picked up on words I mispronounced, they never let it go. So intelligent were these children, but I had to "essuye leurs fesses" - wipe their little asses. Toward the end of my stay in France, I began to realize I was getting homesick.

Guess what the little monsters picked up on? Oh, they told me, this is not your home. You do not live here. You cannot eat at our table. The studio (where I slept) is not yours. It's mine. All mine! To this day their piercing words echo through my head over and over again.

Who would have thought 5-year-olds could be so cruel as to bring me to tears time and time again?!?

I too am from Nova Scotia, which I am beginning to believe is the home of all the worst jobs in the world! Anyways, not that I'm proud of it, but I was the lucky employee of satan!

Last summer I worked with my Uncle's dredging company, He's based in Halifax, and for all of you that don't know, it's the largest harbour in the world, so, I helped out with the dredging, I have my first level of scuba diving, and the odd time I would go diving to fix kinked moorings off of the dredging barge, as if that isn't gross enough, Halifax pumps thousands of raw sewage into the harbour each day, but there was one day... oh yes.. An American Air Craft Carrier came to the harbour and dumped straight into the harbour about 800,000 gallons of sewage, it filled the harbour and because it had been on-board for so long, the crap had clumped up and turned to a compact matter, let's just put it this way, I was in charge of swimming through pure brown chocolate milky water to find the thick hunks of feces and break them apart. Even though I wore a dry suit, I still had to touch to water the odd time, and I literally bathed in tomato juice for a week!!! BEAT THAT!

For the last 4 years I've worked in the local abbitoir loading trucks. This has to be one of the worst jobs imaginable, and for some dumb reason I'm still doing it. On a good day you only really get covered in blood by the corpses you are loading, but out there on a bad day this place would gross anyone out.

Picking up a body and getting a face full of fresh pig blood isn't a great feeling, but is easily beaten in the gross factor when a bag of brains drops off the rail several yards and splatters its contents all over the floor. Now I can handle most things but having to pick up brains off the floor with your bare hands makes me sick every time I have to do it.

Another bad side to the job is that some of the equipment is faulty so if you're not careful a pig might fall off a rail the floor above and hit you, or beef tend to come flying off rails and being hit by 50 kilos at full speed sure knocks the wind out of you.

Starting at 5am on Sunday mornings makes me hate the job even more. It's a great feeling to come home 2am after being out with your friends then getting up 2 hours later to go to work.

There's no doubt about it, this job is the pits.

My worst job was a roadside clown. Doesn't sound too awful, well it isn't. It is a good way to grab some cash for doing less than a squeegee kid. It is a slack-off, wave-at-cars-for-2-6-hours-a-day job that anyone could do. Soooo I thought.

The problem with my job was that I did in the wintertime. I was hired by a local company to stand outside and wave at cars on cold Canadian mornings where temperatures dropped way below 0. Every morning I woke up at 5 am to get up, take a shower and prepare myself for 3 hours of brutal torture. In my clown suit (red pants, a white top with polka dots all over it, a multi-coloured wig, a big cardboard sign advertising for the company, and a plastic mask that I was oh so thankful for getting - god forbid if anyone saw me doing that!) I would walk out the door to the corner that I was suppose to stand at for the day and wave at cars for two-three hours.

At first it wasn't so bad - until winter came along. In -20 degrees weather I would stand outside shivering in the clown costume getting the satisfaction of the honking horns of cars that past me by. City buses would whiz by throwing slush and snow all over me, freezing me even more. I was hoping that some sympathetic soul would have the guts to kill me with their car to put me out of my misery - but no such luck.

Depending on the day, I would have to catch the bus wearing my clown suit to go to school. I would change either at school or on the bus, depending on how crowded it was.

I also used to work after school for the rush hour coming in. This was even worse. Kids would get out of school and torment me.

Countless days I found myself being pelted with snowballs from the kids. I would try to chase them down but in my clown suit and the big cumbersome sign attached to my torso I never did. Little punks! I helped old ladies across the street carrying their bags and holding their hands. Other cars (ones I nicknamed "The occupants are surely going to hell cars") would pitch cans, pens and trash in my direction or yell obscene gestures or phrases like "get a job loser!" or something like that.

Near the end the only satisfaction that I got from the job was the people who waved at me and those who didn't I just muttered profanity under my breath as they passed.

That was my worst job ever. Oh and by the way, the company I was advertising for wasn't some flower shop or gift shop where a clown may have something to do with the company, no it was a rust proofing shop and for 4 cold months that is what I did - and didn't get much money either.

I too am from Nova Scotia, which I am beginning to believe is the home of all the worst jobs in the world! Anyways, not that I'm proud of it, but I was the lucky employee of satan!

Last summer I worked with my Uncle's dredging company, He's based in Halifax, and for all of you that don't know, it's the largest harbour in the world, so, I helped out with the dredging, I have my first level of scuba diving, and the odd time I would go diving to fix kinked moorings off of the dredging barge, as if that isn't gross enough, Halifax pumps thousands of raw sewage into the harbour each day, but there was one day... oh yes.. An American Air Craft Carrier came to the harbour and dumped straight into the harbour about 800,000 gallons of sewage, it filled the harbour and because it had been on-board for so long, the crap had clumped up and turned to a compact matter, let's just put it this way, I was in charge of swimming through pure brown chocolate milky water to find the thick hunks of feces and break them apart. Even though I wore a dry suit, I still had to touch to water the odd time, and I literally bathed in tomatoe juice for a week!!! BEAT THAT!

I work at a horse barn cleaning out stalls for 4 dollars an hour. I wore my favorite hiking boots because I thought I was going to be doing pony rides. Shoving the stuff isn't so bad, as long as you don't trip and land in it (did that), have someone throw it at you (did that too), or step in it. Then I found out how you picked up the liquidy stuff that you missed. Either you picked up handfuls of straw and dropped it in the stuff to soak it up, or you took the straw and blotted it up with your hands. I didn't think anything could smell so bad.

After a grueling day of 50 stalls, I eant home and found out that the watermain that supplies my house with water had broken. I had to go to school in the morning smelling like that. I got new boots.

About 10 years ago I was working in Winnipeg fireproofing a gas plant. We were using a combination of a rubbery fireproofing compound and an alcohol based liquid used to thin it out so it could be sprayed on. This was the first time this procedure had been done in Canada, so everyone there was inexperienced with this stuff. My job was to continually mix the two chemicals together and keep stirring them or they would harden in the sprayer (and completely ruin $8000 in equipment). Attached to one of these chemicals was a warning sticker that stated "may cause allergic reactions"...no one paid much attention to it. After about two weeks, I started noticing little red spots on my arms. But, as we were reaching completion of the job, I decided to ignore them. Half way through the next day, the skin on my arms started drying up and flaking off, and my face started to look a bit "puffy". As I was relying on a co-worker for a ride home, I went and laid down in the work trailer to wait till closing time.

When my co-worker came to get me 4 hours later, my face had puffed up so much I couldn't open my eyes, and skin was beginning to flake off everywhere. I was taken to the hospital where the nurse rushed me through emergency in front of everyone since she had no idea what was happening to me. After being diagnosed, I was given a cream to be applied head to toe, 3 times a day, for three weeks. I was able to open my eyes after about 3 days of this. The kicker to this little escapade? I filed for Workers Compensation...and was awarded $77 for my troubles...GRRRR..

I too am from Nova Scotia, which I am beginning to believe is the home of all the worst jobs in the world! Anyways, not that I'm proud of it, but I was the lucky employee of satan!

Last summer I worked with my Uncle's dredging company, He's based in Halifax, and for all of you that don't know, it's the largest harbour in the world, so, I helped out with the dredging, I have my first level of scuba diving, and the odd time I would go diving to fix kinked moorings off of the dredging barge, as if that isn't gross enough, Halifax pumps thousands of raw sewage into the harbour each day, but there was one day... oh yes.. An American Air Craft Carrier came to the harbour and dumped straight into the harbour about 800,000 gallons of sewage, it filled the harbour and because it had been on-board for so long, the crap had clumped up and turned to a compact matter, let's just put it this way, I was in charge of swimming through pure brown chocolate milky water to find the thick hunks of feces and break them apart. Even though I wore a dry suit, I still had to touch to water the odd time, and I literally bathed in tomatoe juice for a week!!! BEAT THAT!

Well...I worked for the railroad over the course of 4 summers. One of my jobs was to "operate" the incinerating toilets. These are metal toilets used for the railroad gangs out in "the bush"...meaning out on the tracks in remote parts of the land.

The toilets simply collected their stuff for about a week. Then I had to put a special foam in the toilet (the foam resembled oven cleaner). After screwing on a heavy insulated lid onto the toilet I then ran propane into the toilet and lit them off to incinerate the collected refuse. After an hour or so of serious burning (of which the smoke was less than pleasant) I shut off the propane and let them cool off.

Now the worst part. Of course these toilets were basically incinerators, so they only had one large opening (the toilet seat itself). The burned refuse had to be scooped out manually with a hand scoop. I had to get on my hands and knees and dip into a still smoking pile of grey ashen shit at the bottom of these toilets (turning my head to the side and gagging) to be sure there was nothing but ashes and if you didn't know it you would think that you were cleaning the bottom of your BBQ ... but of course it wasn't a BBQ ... it was the ashen remains of 15 guys (me included) taking serious hungry-man dumps after 11 hour shifts.

You would think that this was primitive, but actually these toilets were a very modern way of running a wilderness operation without digging holes in the ground or carting around drums of chemicals. But somebody had to burn them and clean them and being the "summer-student" I got volunteered. The only consolation is that this was far from the only thing I did. Furthermore, the pay was great.

I once worked as an underground miner at a copper mine in Arizona. The mine was very hot and humid and the work exhausting. On top of it all, the mine was infested with roaches, particularly around the toilet area and the area where we ate lunch. Every lunch we'd gather in an out of the way part of the mine and sit down to eat. Following a quick bite we'd turn off our head lamps, making it pitch black, and try to rest for the remainder of our 30 minute break. Invariably we'd wake covered with roaches. I was once roused from my nap by a roach running across my face.

I too am from Nova Scotia, which I am beginning to believe is the home of all the worst jobs in the world! Anyways, not that I'm proud of it, but I was the lucky employee of satan!

Last summer I worked with my Uncle's dredging company, He's based in Halifax, and for all of you that don't know, it's the largest harbour in the world, so, I helped out with the dredging, I have my first level of scuba diving, and the odd time I would go diving to fix kinked moorings off of the dredging barge, as if that isn't gross enough, Halifax pumps thousands of raw sewage into the harbour each day, but there was one day... oh yes.. An American Air Craft Carrier came to the harbour and dumped straight into the harbour about 800,000 gallons of sewage, it filled the harbour and because it had been on-board for so long, the crap had clumped up and turned to a compact matter, let's just put it this way, I was in charge of swimming through pure brown chocolate milky water to find the thick hunks of feces and break them apart. Even though I wore a dry suit, I still had to touch to water the odd time, and I literally bathed in tomatoe juice for a week!!! BEAT THAT!

Well...I worked for the railroad over the course of 4 summers. One of my jobs was to "operate" the incinerating toilets. These are metal toilets used for the railroad gangs out in "the bush"...meaning out on the tracks in remote parts of the land.

The toilets simply collected their stuff for about a week. Then I had to put a special foam in the toilet (the foam resembled oven cleaner). After screwing on a heavy insulated lid onto the toilet I then ran propane into the toilet and lit them off to incinerate the collected refuse. After an hour or so of serious burning (of which the smoke was less than pleasant) I shut off the propane and let them cool off.

Now the worst part. Of course these toilets were basically incinerators, so they only had one large opening (the toilet seat itself). The burned refuse had to be scooped out manually with a hand scoop. I had to get on my hands and knees and dip into a still smoking pile of grey ashen shit at the bottom of these toilets (turning my head to the side and gagging) to be sure there was nothing but ashes and if you didn't know it you would think that you were cleaning the bottom of your BBQ ... but of course it wasn't a BBQ ... it was the ashen remains of 15 guys (me included) taking serious hungry-man dumps after 11 hour shifts.

You would think that this was primitive, but actually these toilets were a very modern way of running a wilderness operation without digging holes in the ground or carting around drums of chemicals. But somebody had to burn them and clean them and being the "summer-student" I got volunteered. The only consolation is that this was far from the only thing I did. Furthermore, the pay was great.

I once worked at a nursing home for 6 days. I was a nurses aide, and I had to be up at 4:30 AM to get to work at 5 AM and I wouldn't get home until 3 PM. I had a bad feeling about the job when I had to sign a waiver saying that I would not hold the nursing home responsible if a person in the Alzheimer's unit physically injured me. Well, to make a long story short, in 6 days, I saw 1 person die in front of me, I had about 10 people puke on me and had to clean up the beds of 3 people who died in their sleep. It has been nearly three years since that job, and I am still in counseling from it.

I currently work at a restaurant I like to refer to as "The Wiener". It's easy to figure it out who this is. Aside from wearing the uniform with a hot dog on your back, and hat, and name tag, you also have to deal with the smell of cooking hot dogs all day. Also I love the people who come in and complain that the table is dirty, there are 15 tables, 14 of which are clean and they HAVE to sit at the one that is dirty. Like I have nothing better to do then to cater to peoples every need.

Also, once I had a guy spill his drink on the table, he placed his tray on top of the spilled soda and walked out without notifying anyone.

This one time I was working the front register and I saw this lady run in and go straight to the bathroom. I never saw her leave cause I was bagging orders but I guess she did after about 10 minutes. Because a lady walked up to the counter 10 minutes later and told me that the ladies bathroom looked like someone exploded. (From here on I don't mean to be disgusting or vulgar, I'm just telling it how it happened.)

So I left the front and walked into the ladies bathroom. The first thing that I noticed was the smell. It was horrible. Then I looked down and noticed that there was a wet trail of "poo" leading to the stall. When I walked into the stall the floor was covered in feces. Never made it to the toilet. That's not where it ends. I wish it was.

So I go back and asked for a volunteer other than me to clean it up. Naturally no one wanted to but neither did I. So I forced myself to do it. I got the mop bucket and put pure bleach in the bucket. I got the mop and I mopped everything. The wall, the toilet, I wasn't about to touch that. It was disgusting. After that I asked for a raise. 10 cents isn't enough you pain in the ass boss.

Well...I worked for the railroad over the course of 4 summers. One of my jobs was to "operate" the incinerating toilets. These are metal toilets used for the railroad gangs out in "the bush"...meaning out on the tracks in remote parts of the land.

The toilets simply collected their stuff for about a week. Then I had to put a special foam in the toilet (the foam resembled oven cleaner). After screwing on a heavy insulated lid onto the toilet I then ran propane into the toilet and lit them off to incinerate the collected refuse. After an hour or so of serious burning (of which the smoke was less than pleasant) I shut off the propane and let them cool off.

Now the worst part. Of course these toilets were basically incinerators, so they only had one large opening (the toilet seat itself). The burned refuse had to be scooped out manually with a hand scoop. I had to get on my hands and knees and dip into a still smoking pile of grey ashen shit at the bottom of these toilets (turning my head to the side and gagging) to be sure there was nothing but ashes and if you didn't know it you would think that you were cleaning the bottom of your BBQ ... but of course it wasn't a BBQ ... it was the ashen remains of 15 guys (me included) taking serious hungry-man dumps after 11 hour shifts.

You would think that this was primitive, but actually these toilets were a very modern way of running a wilderness operation without digging holes in the ground or carting around drums of chemicals. But somebody had to burn them and clean them and being the "summer-student" I got volunteered. The only consolation is that this was far from the only thing I did. Furthermore, the pay was great.

Every year the Grade 10 students go to Guatemala. About a third of the money to send them there has to be earned by "fundraising". Let me tell you about the time I had to fundraise. Some years the Grade Tens get to fundraise by doing something called "Chicken Catching".

Now, one might think that this means chasing chickens and catching them. It's not. You see, a short ways away from our fair city there are chicken farms that sell eggs, and every so often they have to take the old chickens out and import new chickens to their barns. One good-sized barn can contain in excess of 5000 Chickens. Are you starting to get an inkling of what happened? Now, not all of our class (30 students) showed up. They knew about chicken catching from older brothers or sisters. So we, the innocent, went chicken catching. Some people had gloves and masks. I wasn't one of them. We made teams of two or three. One person would extract the chickens from their cage (there would be about 5 to a cage) and hand them to their waiting team member.

Now, let me explain something to you before I tell you what I did -- chickens fight and chickens poop when they are scared.

So my teammate would reach into the cage and hand me a chicken (did I mention that chickens have kind of sharp beaks?) and I would take the chicken. Then I had to push its head down and then I let go of one leg (for some reason it quiets them). I would go on like this until I had 3 or 4 chickens in each hand. Did I mention that I had no gloves and chickens have hard beaks and poop when they're scared?

That was the first day; it went from 5 PM to Midnight. Then the next day arrived. That day we had to do the opposite. Brand new, lively, and very energetic chickens had to be put into cages. Remember I mentioned that chickens like fighting. Well some of my team members found dead chickens when they were grabbing the chickens for the cages. I didn't, thank goodness. That day we "stuffed" chickens from 1 PM to almost 1:00 AM. That night I had some really weird dreams. I dreamed that I was "stuffing" chickens, but I was still in bed (sitting up) and in my pajamas. In my dream I found a dead chicken, so I threw it to the end of my bed and jerked a blanket over it. Now, every night I sleep with a white bear that I have had since about first grade. I woke up sort of) during the night and couldn't find the bear. I thought for a minute, then (still half-asleep, mind you) reached to the end, thinking, of course that the chicken was there but checking, anyway. I found the bear and ate a lot of chicken that week. It was my revenge. Yum.

I got a job as an "intern" at a law office after school. My mom kept saying I was lucky for what "good experience" I was getting ... she had no idea. The guy I worked for was so cheap he fired his secretary after I started working there. I had to do everything.

She hadn't done anything for what seemed like 6 months and there was a stack of papers to be filed in the corner of the office that was 4 feet high. It took me almost 3 months to get to the bottom of it and I never had so many papercuts in my life! But the worst part was that the lawyer in the office was so smelly and gross I would gag when he walked by my desk. It was a combination of greasy hair, B.O. and another horrible stench that could only have come from 'down below.'

In the summertime it was about 85/90 degrees everyday and he would ride his bike to work. I cannot even describe the variety and the strength of the odors when he would get to work. And his desk drawers were full of Playboy and Penthouse magazines. The downstairs office bathroom (the one that the clients did not use) had a shower in it with this tacky, naked dancing ladies shower curtain and drawers full of all the old Penthouse and Playboy magazines, AND, I am not kidding, an industrial sized jar of Vaseline. Even worse, he would pick his nose constantly, he would clip his toenails at his desk, he burped and farted all day long and he couldn't speak unless his mouth was full of food. Sometimes he would dictate tapes and I would have to listen to them and type them. The tapes would be full of his farting, toenail clipping sounds and chewing. I have had to pick boogers off of important papers at least 3 times. I have a very weak stomach and I have thrown up on the job seven times in 10 months and gone home and cried at least 15 times.

Well...I worked for the railroad over the course of 4 summers. One of my jobs was to "operate" the incinerating toilets. These are metal toilets used for the railroad gangs out in "the bush"...meaning out on the tracks in remote parts of the land.

The toilets simply collected their stuff for about a week. Then I had to put a special foam in the toilet (the foam resembled oven cleaner). After screwing on a heavy insulated lid onto the toilet I then ran propane into the toilet and lit them off to incinerate the collected refuse. After an hour or so of serious burning (of which the smoke was less than pleasant) I shut off the propane and let them cool off.

Now the worst part. Of course these toilets were basically incinerators, so they only had one large opening (the toilet seat itself). The burned refuse had to be scooped out manually with a hand scoop. I had to get on my hands and knees and dip into a still smoking pile of grey ashen shit at the bottom of these toilets (turning my head to the side and gagging) to be sure there was nothing but ashes and if you didn't know it you would think that you were cleaning the bottom of your BBQ ... but of course it wasn't a BBQ ... it was the ashen remains of 15 guys (me included) taking serious hungry-man dumps after 11 hour shifts.

You would think that this was primitive, but actually these toilets were a very modern way of running a wilderness operation without digging holes in the ground or carting around drums of chemicals. But somebody had to burn them and clean them and being the "summer-student" I got volunteered. The only consolation is that this was far from the only thing I did. Furthermore, the pay was great.

I live in Illinois. Corn Capital of the world (well, maybe next to Iowa). Any way, I Detassel. For those who don't know what it is, you walk through a field and pull the tassles off the stalk. Sounds simple? Well first, I get up every day at 4:45. The bus leaves at around 5:30. First off you get there and you start your row, and after you get out of the row you are dripping wet from the dew and have already numerous cuts on your hands. As the long day goes on, it dries up because it is around 90 degrees outside, 105 degrees in the cornfield. Your clothes are now crusty hard because you were wet now covered with dirt. Any way you have to wear long sleeve shirts, pants and a bandana because the corn is dry and it cuts you up bad, and you also get bad corn rash, which is a red rash that stings and burns. You also get bad chafing - when this happens you can barely walk without extreme pain. But there is a fun game us slaves like to do to the first year workers. There are these bug infested white cream balls called crusties, and they splatter when thrown against someone.

I got it my first year just like everyone else. Around 3:00 you start to wonder if this is a job, or are you just a slave. You are dehydrated and have bugs all over you. This doesn't end until around 4:00. But do I learn? No. I will start my third year of slave work next summer. Why? I just don't know.

In a small town in the Midwest I once worked in a roller bearing factory .... in the basement. In 100+ degree heat, my job was to vacuum up oil which would constantly drip down from the machines above, collecting on the basement floor some three inches deep. Also, the metal lathes would drop their scrap steel down several large metal shafts and I would have to open up the bins at the bottom and use a pitchfork to pull out huge wads of steel shavings. Try to imagine about a hundred unraveled audio cassettes with the tape made of razor sharp steel rolled into a mishapen blob the size of a large armchair.

Then, using the pitchfork and my hands and arms, pull this heavy, razor sharp steel blob up the stairs and put it in the dumpster. This had to be done about 3 or 4 times a shift.

There was much more to this job, but I try not to think about it too much. There was one benefit. I now have some idea of what hell is like. I'm not a quitter, and have had many other really bad jobs that could fill a book or three, but after one month of that I threw away my oil-soaked work boots (weighing about 10 pounds each) and resigned. :-) What a happy day THAT was! The supervisors at the factory weren't surprised in the least. I found out that usually new employees were promoted from that job to the main work floor within three weeks, but there were no openings.

Well...I worked for the railroad over the course of 4 summers. One of my jobs was to "operate" the incinerating toilets. These are metal toilets used for the railroad gangs out in "the bush"...meaning out on the tracks in remote parts of the land.

The toilets simply collected their stuff for about a week. Then I had to put a special foam in the toilet (the foam resembled oven cleaner). After screwing on a heavy insulated lid onto the toilet I then ran propane into the toilet and lit them off to incinerate the collected refuse. After an hour or so of serious burning (of which the smoke was less than pleasant) I shut off the propane and let them cool off.

Now the worst part. Of course these toilets were basically incinerators, so they only had one large opening (the toilet seat itself). The burned refuse had to be scooped out manually with a hand scoop. I had to get on my hands and knees and dip into a still smoking pile of grey ashen shit at the bottom of these toilets (turning my head to the side and gagging) to be sure there was nothing but ashes and if you didn't know it you would think that you were cleaning the bottom of your BBQ ... but of course it wasn't a BBQ ... it was the ashen remains of 15 guys (me included) taking serious hungry-man dumps after 11 hour shifts.

You would think that this was primitive, but actually these toilets were a very modern way of running a wilderness operation without digging holes in the ground or carting around drums of chemicals. But somebody had to burn them and clean them and being the "summer-student" I got volunteered. The only consolation is that this was far from the only thing I did. Furthermore, the pay was great.

I work in a dental office after school. I work for one dentist. He also employs three of his own kids, but that's a whole other story.

Anyway, I am the youngest person who works there other than his kids, and I have no formal training in this field. I clean rooms, sterilize instruments, set up trays, sweep and clean up after people. None of this seems to bad in theory, but how many of you really know what goes on in a dental office.

Dentists can be gross and bloody places. We rip teeth out of people's mouths, use scary little drills and big horrible needles. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself, where the stuff goes when they suction it out of your mouth?

Let me tell you. An office has a large suction system. The hoses take away the gunk and grime and it passes through a filter to take away all of the large chunks. This is the most disgusting thing in the world. We're talking teeth chunks, gobs of blood, old fillings, you name it and it gets stuck in there.

These filters (called traps) must be changed every week. Sometimes they stick, sometimes they get tipped over and all the stuff flies all over. This is my job. It is disgusting.

Last summer I believe I had one of the worst possible jobs on this planet. I worked for a company that broke eggs all day, separated the yolks and whites, and shipped them away for various other companies to use. This sounds innocent and clean enough, but trust me, it's far from enjoyable.

My job consisted of unloading pallets of eggs taller than me, I'm six feet tall mind you, onto a conveyor system. I then had to candle the eggs. Candling is when eggs pass over a light so you can see if there is anything gross inside the egg. This still sounds pretty easy doesn't it?

The factory was usually hovering around 100 degrees over the summer, plus whatever the humidity factor was. Eggs don't stay real fresh in such temperatures, and when around half of them arrive at my job site already rotten, it made breathing through your nose a big no no.

Over the summer I handled more rotten eggs than I have ever seen eggs in general in my lifetime. These eggs were not only just rotten, no, they were often caked in rat or chicken shit. Many were filled with half formed chicks. The majority would literally explode if you touched them there were so rotten. Try being covered in black rotten egg yolk all day, I mean literally soaked in the front of your shirt and jeans.

Besides the eggs I had to deal with roaches, rats, mice, and all forms of insects that came in along with the pallets of eggs.

Amazingly enough, despite all of the pure filth at this company, we managed to squeak by the health inspections. I guess that just goes to show you how far you can stretch the word "edible".

Try doing this 10 to 12 hours a day, standing the whole time on concrete, 6 days a week and tell me that it is not one of the most horrid forms of punishment on our planet.

Normally, my job isn't too bad besides being exposed to hazardous chemicals on a daily basis and hearing complaints all day long. One day, one of the refrigerators in the zoology lab broke down. Of course, I didn't find out about it until who knows how many days later. Well, the fridge was required for storing specimens and needed to be working. So, I went up to check on it. What a mistake!

The inside of the fridge was covered in a smoky gray mold...EVERYWHERE! So, I went and got some gloves and bleach, and of course, a dust mask. Once I got to work, I discovered that the mold wasn't the worst of it. Besides the mold covering labels of chemicals that turned out to be highly flammable, there were biological samples left in the fridge. Someone had left a trough of what turned out to be blood from some specimen. Imagine blood sitting in a warm closed unit for who knows how long. It was congealed and rank. I had to run it under extremely hot water and dump a gallon of bleach on top to get rid of the odor. At the bottom of the fridge, I found a carton of eggs. I don't know what they were for, but three of the eggs were broken. I am sure we have all imagined what rotten eggs smells like, but I actually got to experience it. I still have nightmares about it.

The bottom of the fridge was covered with this slimy scum that I actually had to pierce to get through, like the top layer of cooling soup or pudding. It was gray and thick and it turns out that within it was pieces of a broken beaker.

I have never been so furious or so on the verge of crying in my job...crying from rage. I ruined my new tennis shoes because I used so much bleach and it kept spraying on my shoes and clothes.

I wouldn't wish this job on my worst enemy.

I had been searching for a job for the past year and a half and had found nothing. I had recently gotten back in touch with an old friend of mine, who was the manager at a fast food Mexican restaurant (think Taco Bell but WAY smaller and not a chain). So I got this job. I started off doing the till and then after 2 weeks I got to make the food. Since it was such a small place (83 square feet) everyone who worked there was trained to do everything so we could work by ourselves. I worked 6 or 8 hour shifts 3 or 4 days a week. I didn't make minimum wage. Out of the 4 employees, only one did. I made 7 dollars an hour, Jon made 4 dollars an hour and James made 5 dollars a day. It sucked. We had to make burritos, tacos and nachos all day long. We hated nachos. Most of the time we would tell people that we were out of nacho chips because nachos are such a pain to make. We had to be cooking things constantly, but we couldnt cook more than one thing at once, otherwise a fuse would blow. Many times I had to close for 30 minutes while I cooked enough food to actually sell anything. I'm vegetarian and every day I would go home reeking of beef and chicken ... it was disgusting. I got NO thanks from any customers; in fact, I more often got complaints from people who hadn't even bought anything that day. I got laid off in early September, and truthfully, I was quite thankful.

Last summer I believe I had one of the worst possible jobs on this planet. I worked for a company that broke eggs all day, separated the yolks and whites, and shipped them away for various other companies to use. This sounds innocent and clean enough, but trust me, it's far from enjoyable.

My job consisted of unloading pallets of eggs taller than me, I'm six feet tall mind you, onto a conveyor system. I then had to candle the eggs. Candling is when eggs pass over a light so you can see if there is anything gross inside the egg. This still sounds pretty easy doesn't it?

The factory was usually hovering around 100 degrees over the summer, plus whatever the humidity factor was. Eggs don't stay real fresh in such temperatures, and when around half of them arrive at my job site already rotten, it made breathing through your nose a big no no.

Over the summer I handled more rotten eggs than I have ever seen eggs in general in my lifetime. These eggs were not only just rotten, no, they were often caked in rat or chicken shit. Many were filled with half formed chicks. The majority would literally explode if you touched them there were so rotten. Try being covered in black rotten egg yolk all day, I mean literally soaked in the front of your shirt and jeans.

Besides the eggs I had to deal with roaches, rats, mice, and all forms of insects that came in along with the pallets of eggs.

Amazingly enough, despite all of the pure filth at this company, we managed to squeak by the health inspections. I guess that just goes to show you how far you can stretch the word "edible".

Try doing this 10 to 12 hours a day, standing the whole time on concrete, 6 days a week and tell me that it is not one of the most horrid forms of punishment on our planet.

Linda
The New Champ!

Normally, my job isn't too bad besides being exposed to hazardous chemicals on a daily basis and hearing complaints all day long. One day, one of the refrigerators in the zoology lab broke down. Of course, I didn't find out about it until who knows how many days later. Well, the fridge was required for storing specimens and needed to be working. So, I went up to check on it. What a mistake!

The inside of the fridge was covered in a smoky gray mold...EVERYWHERE! So, I went and got some gloves and bleach, and of course, a dust mask. Once I got to work, I discovered that the mold wasn't the worst of it. Besides the mold covering labels of chemicals that turned out to be highly flammable, there were biological samples left in the fridge. Someone had left a trough of what turned out to be blood from some specimen. Imagine blood sitting in a warm closed unit for who knows how long. It was congealed and rank. I had to run it under extremely hot water and dump a gallon of bleach on top to get rid of the odor. At the bottom of the fridge, I found a carton of eggs. I don't know what they were for, but three of the eggs were broken. I am sure we have all imagined what rotten eggs smells like, but I actually got to experience it. I still have nightmares about it.

The bottom of the fridge was covered with this slimy scum that I actually had to pierce to get through, like the top layer of cooling soup or pudding. It was gray and thick and it turns out that within it was pieces of a broken beaker.

I have never been so furious or so on the verge of crying in my job...crying from rage. I ruined my new tennis shoes because I used so much bleach and it kept spraying on my shoes and clothes.

I wouldn't wish this job on my worst enemy.

I worked in a supermarket meatroom as a meat packer for 6 months. Apart from having to handle raw slimy meat all day without gloves (too expensive, management said) I had to put up with abusive chauvenistic co-workers who asked "who rattled your chain?" whenever i opened my mouth, flicked big bloodclots from the meat at me, put sheeps' eyeballs down my back, locked me in the fridge, rubbed meat in my hair, and generally abused me constantly, calling me fatty and saying how much profit they would made slicing the rump steak off me.

In addition to this and the 5am starts and no breaks, I had to put new use-by dates on old meat, marinate the stuff that was green and smelly, clean the maggots from the drainage tubes from the meat case, and see what they put into the budget sausages...one ingredient comes to mind as a loin of pork with a pus filled cyst the size of my fist...waste not, want not hey? They also had meat fights, with steaks being thrown about the room and, you guessed it, picked up by me when they told me to pack and sell it.

It was the most horrifying job I've ever heard of!!! And this is a true story, due to my revenge there are Health Dept. records to prove it.

This was my first job that my mom set me up with. It was to be a janitor. I figured ok, clean a few places, not take too long, and it'll be all good. WRONG! The lady stuck me with bad hours, 6p.m. till midnight working alone in a mansion of downtown Olympia, where I'm from. First off not only was it scary having to walk a half mile parking, but working in the mansion by myself, and having rumors that it was haunted. Those feelings soon went away, but having all guys work there, I never realized how much they can be such slobs. And how much they rely on women to do things. Like if they can shoot a basket, bowl a strike, and aim a gun, why can't they aim while peeing? I had to clean up puddles of pee behind the toilet, and I started finding more weird things to clean. Such as used condoms under desks, two day non-flushed clogged toilets, or puke all over the walls. And not to mention the boss messing up on my pay, so in two weeks, for making six dollars an hour, and working at least 20 hours a week during the hot 100 degree heat wave, i was making about 100 dollars, which forced me to buy nose plugs and better cleaning supplies. I warn everyone out there. NEVER BE A JANITOR!!! .

I was 18 years old and I was home for summer break from college. My dad lined up a job for me at a sod farm in South Florida. The place was 40 minutes from our house and I had to be there by 6am every morning.

I thought I would be mowing grass or something. It turned out that this particular sod farm had a cattle ranch associated with it. I guess by having the cows move around from field to field the grass got fertilized for free.

Anyway, my job consisted mainly of repairing barb-wire fences that the wino tractor drivers would destroy on a daily basis. That part of the job wasn't so bad but the guy I had to work with was. He was about 65 years old and he kept a stash of porno mags under the seat of his company truck. While I was busy mending fences he would sit in the truck and read his smut. A dirtier old man I can't imagine.

So one Friday the old guy tells me that he is going away for the weekend and I had to drive in to work and fill the water tanks for the cows. There were these big vats situated throughout the property and next to the vats were wells. The truck had a pump on the back. So I was supposed to hook the pump up to the wells and fill the vats.

So I roll in on Saturday morning, happy that my perverted old partner wasn't there, get in the truck and head out to the cow pastures. On the way a 5 gallon bucket of nails falls off the back of the truck and covers the road with nails. Great. I spend on hour picking nails out of a dirt road.

By the time I pull up to the first vat, the cows are thirsty. They see me there and start crowding around, waiting for the water. I get the pump hooked up and start filling the vat. All the while being pushed and shoved by big stupid cows who are getting all excited and crapping on each other.

While the vat was filling, a big dumb looking cow is standing next to me. He looks at me. Then he proceeds to push his head against the side of the vat so as to close one nostril. The other nostril is now pointing at me. He lets loose with a giant snort and now I'm covered with cow snot. He seemed so deliberate. I almost barfed as I pulled the strands of cow snot from my face and off of my lips.

I used the hose to whack the cow but he was completely oblivious to my attack. I finished watering the other cows, drove home and nearly scrubbed my skin off in the shower. Needless to say, I quit that job bright and early Monday morning.

I worked in a supermarket meatroom as a meat packer for 6 months. Apart from having to handle raw slimy meat all day without gloves (too expensive, management said) I had to put up with abusive chauvenistic co-workers who asked "who rattled your chain?" whenever i opened my mouth, flicked big bloodclots from the meat at me, put sheeps' eyeballs down my back, locked me in the fridge, rubbed meat in my hair, and generally abused me constantly, calling me fatty and saying how much profit they would made slicing the rump steak off me.

In addition to this and the 5am starts and no breaks, I had to put new use-by dates on old meat, marinate the stuff that was green and smelly, clean the maggots from the drainage tubes from the meat case, and see what they put into the budget sausages...one ingredient comes to mind as a loin of pork with a pus filled cyst the size of my fist...waste not, want not hey? They also had meat fights, with steaks being thrown about the room and, you guessed it, picked up by me when they told me to pack and sell it.

It was the most horrifying job I've ever heard of!!! And this is a true story, due to my revenge there are Health Dept. records to prove it.

I once had a job moving pianos and organs from a music store to people's residences and places of business. Our policy was free delivery the day we say or your money back.

One day one of the salesmen gives me and the other mover the job of delivering a full sized Grand Piano. We called the lady who bought it and told her we were on our way. She told us before we left that the piano would not fit on the passenger elevator but we could use the freight elevator.

When we got to the address, about an hour and a half drive, we found the numbering system for these condos was very strange and the one we were looking for was on the TENTH floor, not the SECOND floor like we thought.

We then asked where the freight elevator was. It was around back BUT - IT HAD BEEN OUT OF SERVICE FOR A WEEK. That meant we had to carry this HUGE piano up ten flights of stairs the hard way. And of course there was AC everywhere in the building EXCEPT the stairwell.

She did tip us very well, but we could barely lift our arms high enough to accept it.

I worked one summer at a large distribution center, which distributed to gas stations, airlines, and some fast food places. My job title was bin washer. I would get the bins that in some way or other ended up getting dirty. I got bins about 3 months after they had stuff spilled in them. Gas station owners would put their dirty bins behind the stores til my company's truck drivers picked them up, then the trucker loader/unloaders would move the bins to the back of the warehouse where they'd remain til I got to them. I would get bins with a gallon of nacho cheese spilled in the bottom -- of course the cheese would have maggots and other life in it.

My personal favorite was dead rodents. One time there was a dead baby opossum. Over the 2 1/2 months I worked there, I vomited a total of 3 times as a result of stuff I was cleaning. Since I was cleaning these things with water, my shoes and socks would get soaked daily.

Did I mention the job started at 5am every day and went til 2:30pm? Also that it was in Texas in the Summer, and there was no A/C. Anyway, I don't expect I'll accept that job again.

I worked in a supermarket meatroom as a meat packer for 6 months. Apart from having to handle raw slimy meat all day without gloves (too expensive, management said) I had to put up with abusive chauvenistic co-workers who asked "who rattled your chain?" whenever i opened my mouth, flicked big bloodclots from the meat at me, put sheeps' eyeballs down my back, locked me in the fridge, rubbed meat in my hair, and generally abused me constantly, calling me fatty and saying how much profit they would made slicing the rump steak off me.

In addition to this and the 5am starts and no breaks, I had to put new use-by dates on old meat, marinate the stuff that was green and smelly, clean the maggots from the drainage tubes from the meat case, and see what they put into the budget sausages...one ingredient comes to mind as a loin of pork with a pus filled cyst the size of my fist...waste not, want not hey? They also had meat fights, with steaks being thrown about the room and, you guessed it, picked up by me when they told me to pack and sell it.

It was the most horrifying job I've ever heard of!!! And this is a true story, due to my revenge there are Health Dept. records to prove it.

I worked one summer in a laundromat with a drop-off service. Every day the same thing, put through 10 to 20 loads of the most vile disgusting laundry for people who were just too busy to do it for themselves. The thing is, some of these people knew they weren't going to be doing their own laundry so they never really cared about the condition of what they brought in. Sweat-soaked socks that had been stuffed under a bed for a month, and underwear that was brittle enough to stand up on its own was a daily occurrence.

Crusty socks and underwear that you had to handle with a stick was bad enough but one day the boss went out to make a pickup for a lady who wasn't able to "do for herself" and apparently had nobody else to do for her either. When the boss came back with her laundry bag he was carrying it at arms length and even doing that his face was a sickly shade of green. Seems she'd been in laid up in bed for a week and just couldn't get up to .... (you figure it out).

So, anyway, we didn't even bother to unload the bag. Just threw it in one of our big machines and started it up with a bucket of soap and cold water. We had to do that three or four times before we could even get close enough to it to sort it and wash everything separate. It was pretty nasty.

And the worst of it all was when we put out a tip jar because we were only making 6 bucks an hour. It was a vain attempt to get some of these disgusting folks to feel guilty about what they left us to wash and the boss told us to take the jar down because it "wasn't professional".

I worked one summer at a large distribution center, which distributed to gas stations, airlines, and some fast food places. My job title was bin washer. I would get the bins that in some way or other ended up getting dirty. I got bins about 3 months after they had stuff spilled in them. Gas station owners would put their dirty bins behind the stores til my company's truck drivers picked them up, then the trucker loader/unloaders would move the bins to the back of the warehouse where they'd remain til I got to them. I would get bins with a gallon of nacho cheese spilled in the bottom -- of course the cheese would have maggots and other life in it.

My personal favorite was dead rodents. One time there was a dead baby opossum. Over the 2 1/2 months I worked there, I vomited a total of 3 times as a result of stuff I was cleaning. Since I was cleaning these things with water, my shoes and socks would get soaked daily.

Did I mention the job started at 5am every day and went til 2:30pm? Also that it was in Texas in the Summer, and there was no A/C. Anyway, I don't expect I'll accept that job again.

I have worked in a comic book store for the last 4 years now. Many people might say "Hey! What are you complaining about?" but they don't realize the awful truth of the job.

First of all, the pay sucks. After four years, I only make $5.75 an hour, and I had to fight bitterly for that.

Second, a large number of our customers are, in fact, the stereotypical ones. On any given day, I'll receive at least twenty customers who have either forgotten how to bathe, groom themselves, or get normal lives (some guy once tried for half an hour to get me into a conversation about every Spider-Man story of the last decade).

Then there are the Manga/Anime people. For the record, I like some Japanese comics and cartoons, but the only ones that seem to sell are the pornographic ones. I have no desire to touch anything that has been in the hands of the people that buy these videos/comics, but I have to take their money anyway.

And there's also the endless stream of neighborhood kids, who are all under the impression the we're either a day-care center or a training ground for shoplifting.

But the worst part of all is the fact that no girls ever come into the store.

About 2 years ago, I took up this job at a Dog Kennel. I thought it would be fun, petting doggies and stuff.

NOT! I had to get there at 6am, take a container with 50 compartments, and scoop up each dog's poop in the compartment with their name on it. Then I had to touch the poop, and look at a color chart to see if the poop was normal! That took me about 1 hour, and I had to come to the kennel at 6am, 12pm, 5pm and 9pm every day! I couldn't leave until every dog's poop was tested, and once I waited 2 hours for a black lab to do his thing!

When I get home, I smell like poop so much that my mom won't even let me take a shower inside. She bought one of those kiddie pools to bathe in the backyard, and I can't come into the house until I do!

I work for my parents. I spend all day with my parents at work... then I spend all night with my parents at home... argh.

They own a take-away food shop.. and it is busy and you come home smelling of dim sims. My dad likes to hit you with a tea-towel... ouch.. so yeah.. that's my job... and it's the worst cos....

I HAVE TO WORK WITH MY PARENTS!!

I took a job with a landfill with the idea that all I would be doing was weed-eating and minor landscaping. After I had showed up for work the first day the foreman handed me a shovel and told me to dig a sewage trench for their new break room. This wasn't too bad, and after a couple of hours I had it finished.

I thought that surely I would start the landscaping next, but instead he gave me a roll of garbage bags and sent me *INTO* the landfill to "pick up trash". It looked like something out of Star Wars. Huge piles of trash, some covered by the with dirt by the bulldozers, some just standing open. Exactly how I was supposed to "clean" a landfill I'll never know because after 30 minutes of walking around, dodging garbage trucks and trying not to breath I gave up and went home.

About 2 years ago, I took up this job at a Dog Kennel. I thought it would be fun, petting doggies and stuff.

NOT! I had to get there at 6am, take a container with 50 compartments, and scoop up each dog's poop in the compartment with their name on it. Then I had to touch the poop, and look at a color chart to see if the poop was normal! That took me about 1 hour, and I had to come to the kennel at 6am, 12pm, 5pm and 9pm every day! I couldn't leave until every dog's poop was tested, and once I waited 2 hours for a black lab to do his thing!

When I get home, I smell like poop so much that my mom won't even let me take a shower inside. She bought one of those kiddie pools to bathe in the backyard, and I can't come into the house until I do!

I work for my parents. I spend all day with my parents at work... then I spend all night with my parents at home... argh.

They own a take-away food shop.. and it is busy and you come home smelling of dim sims. My dad likes to hit you with a tea-towel... ouch.. so yeah.. that's my job... and it's the worst cos....

I HAVE TO WORK WITH MY PARENTS!!

I grew up in a small fishing village on the coast of Nova Scotia.

There was a fish processing plant in the village, where about 30 people worked cleaning, filleting and salting cod. All of them worked at long tables with an opening down the middle of the table into which they scraped the fish guts. All of the guts dropped into a trough, and were supposed to be washed out of the trough into the ocean (where seagulls would feast on them....)

The sprayer that was supposed to keep things moving stopped working, and the guts began to build up in the trough. After about three years, the health department threatened to have the managers all shot if they didn't get the trough cleaned out and the sprayer fixed.

I got a job cleaning out the trough. It only took one day - the longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't smell anything after the first five minutes, my sense of smell having just curled up and died.

When I arrived at home my mother wouldn't let me into the house until I had stripped, bathed (three times) and shaved my head. She burned the clothes I was wearing and all of my hair clippings. It was not pretty.

I had the worst job ever.

I was the Easter Bunny in an upscale mall.

Besides the obvious of wearing the giant head and the hot suit, there were unknown horrors that the world shall now realize.

First, the woman who wore the suit before me was nasty, and when I got the suit it was sweaty and it smelled like her breath.

Then there were the small children. I hate small children, but I like $6.50 an hour!

Whenever I was around them they would scream and cry and hit me.

When I wasn't in the suit I was the photographer. I had to deal with parents who would not stop their kids from crying and then not pay for the pictures because they didn't like the pictures of their kids screaming.

To make all matters worse, one of the guys at corporate would frequently be ultra "friendly" to me and then remind me that I was 14, like I didn't know.

Plus there's always the friends stopping by factor.

I dare someone to beat that!!!

I used to work in the chemistry department at the university.

My job was to stock paper. Now I realize that this does not sound too horrible, but trust me.

The building had 5 floors and the store room where the paper was kept was located in the basement. To get to the room where it was stored, I had to walk through the place where all the hazardous chemicals were stored.

To make matters worse the light switch was connected... that means people who came into the chemical room would turn the lights off as they left, turning off my light as well. This left me trapped in a windowless room, somewhat resembling a bomb shelter, attempting to feel my way through a room full of toxic things. Very bad.

The elevator in the building was inoperable. Therefore I was required to climb up and down the stairs carrying 50 lb boxes of paper.

At first I was not strong enough to pick them forcing me to make multiple trip for just one box. There were around 50 copiers... leaving me to deliver 100-150 boxes per day.

Never doing that again... and they pay wasn't even that great.

I grew up in a small fishing village on the coast of Nova Scotia.

There was a fish processing plant in the village, where about 30 people worked cleaning, filleting and salting cod. All of them worked at long tables with an opening down the middle of the table into which they scraped the fish guts. All of the guts dropped into a trough, and were supposed to be washed out of the trough into the ocean (where seagulls would feast on them....)

The sprayer that was supposed to keep things moving stopped working, and the guts began to build up in the trough. After about three years, the health department threatened to have the managers all shot if they didn't get the trough cleaned out and the sprayer fixed.

I got a job cleaning out the trough. It only took one day - the longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't smell anything after the first five minutes, my sense of smell having just curled up and died.

When I arrived at home my mother wouldn't let me into the house until I had stripped, bathed (three times) and shaved my head. She burned the clothes I was wearing and all of my hair clippings. It was not pretty.

I once worked as a night packer in a local supermarket chain.

I started work at 12:00AM until 7AM. This job included (among other things) taking an entire inventory of the freezer section of the store. Working in a steady -20 degrees (while outside, in South Africa it was +20 degrees) I had to count frozen chickens, deserts, and other assorted perishables. It was so cold that after a particularly busy evening where I was working in there for 8 hours I got frostbite on my cheek and had to be taken to hospital.

On top of that my co-workers were often caught taking bites out of the pies and putting them back on the display shelves.

Beat That!

I was a grave digger one summer. Once while we were taking down the awnings after a funeral we heard a faint beeping noise. We didn't lower the body into the pit yet, when we noticed the sound was coming from the casket. It was the guy's alarm watch that wasn't removed from his hand when they closed the box.

I grew up in a small fishing village on the coast of Nova Scotia.

There was a fish processing plant in the village, where about 30 people worked cleaning, filleting and salting cod. All of them worked at long tables with an opening down the middle of the table into which they scraped the fish guts. All of the guts dropped into a trough, and were supposed to be washed out of the trough into the ocean (where seagulls would feast on them....)

The sprayer that was supposed to keep things moving stopped working, and the guts began to build up in the trough. After about three years, the health department threatened to have the managers all shot if they didn't get the trough cleaned out and the sprayer fixed.

I got a job cleaning out the trough. It only took one day - the longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't smell anything after the first five minutes, my sense of smell having just curled up and died.

When I arrived at home my mother wouldn't let me into the house until I had stripped, bathed (three times) and shaved my head. She burned the clothes I was wearing and all of my hair clippings. It was not pretty.

I used to work for a diaper service company. I would pick up used diapers from peoples houses and return them for laundering.

One day I had a full load (LOL) when I was on the freeway I got stuck in a traffic jam for about 6 hours. The truck is just a delivery truck like you see the U.P.S guys drive-in. Its. not bad while you moving but when your Stopped WHEW. plus the day was in the high 90's with 98% humidity and no wind.

When I got back I got my butt chewed for being late. I got so pissed off at my boss that I grabbed him and locked him in the back of the truck with the full load still back there.

He later filed charges against me for assualt and battery and attempted great bodily harm.

The judge threw out the case and gave me compensation because he fired me when I grabbed him.

The judge said the smell would have driven him insane and he would have parked the vehicle on the side of the road and quit!

OK, so get this. My mom sets me up for a volunteer job at the United Way for the summer. I thought that meant I was going to answer phones and generally be a secretary a couple days a week. Whoops! Boy, was I misinformed.

One of my many seemingly menial jobs was counting out 15,000 brochures into stacks of 25. That sucked. Well, I shouldn't say that. I had many retired volunteers to "help" me, which meant I had to go back and fix whatever they screwed up when they left for their water aerobics lessons.

I also had to lift VERY heavy boxes of said brochures and move them for no apparent reason: "Ok, put the brochures here. No, no, wrong office. Over here. Yeah, that's it. Oh wait! Take them to the storage room, and you can just come back after lunch to move them back to the conference room."

For lunch, I would have to go wherever my "colleagues" wanted to go. this ended up in me eating roast beef, fried okra, and collard greens that I had to pay eight bucks for. So, the gist of it was, I was having to pay to work at this office. Yeah, that's great. That little internship the summer before tenth grade damn well better get me into an ivy league school, full scholarship. Or maybe I'll just work for the c*e*a. Hey, it could happen.

I grew up in a small fishing village on the coast of Nova Scotia.

There was a fish processing plant in the village, where about 30 people worked cleaning, filleting and salting cod. All of them worked at long tables with an opening down the middle of the table into which they scraped the fish guts. All of the guts dropped into a trough, and were supposed to be washed out of the trough into the ocean (where seagulls would feast on them....)

The sprayer that was supposed to keep things moving stopped working, and the guts began to build up in the trough. After about three years, the health department threatened to have the managers all shot if they didn't get the trough cleaned out and the sprayer fixed.

I got a job cleaning out the trough. It only took one day - the longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't smell anything after the first five minutes, my sense of smell having just curled up and died.

When I arrived at home my mother wouldn't let me into the house until I had stripped, bathed (three times) and shaved my head. She burned the clothes I was wearing and all of my hair clippings. It was not pretty.

On top of these charming customers is the added bonus of a tres sexy uniform (with fitting name tag, so every drunk in the country can compose rhyming poetry about you name ... very flattering, I can assure you) including the chic visor and stripy shirt (ring a ding ding). Not forgetting that the amount of oil in the air, due to the amount of grease used in EVERYTHING, does wonders for an adolescent's skin (acne? What's acne?) and the co-workers are absolute tossers who expect you to clean the floor with a piece of dental floss whilst serving the billions of customers flocking to your register, filling up chocolate topping and juggling cheeseburgers, or something stupid. The cherry on the cake is the fact that I only get paid $AUS7.91/hour, which roughly translates to $US5.06/hour. If anyone has anything better, please contact me.

I feel strangely better now.

P.S. I forgot to mention my frustrations with the fact that EVERYTHING in the store starts with the phrase "Mc". Which just makes me want to McKill myself. Not forgetting that fact that throuhgout the ordeals inflicted by customers you have to continuously keep smiling :)))) I'M HAPPY, GODDAMN IT.

I spent one summer I work as a care assistant and although my job can be rewarding it also has its downsides.

I grew up in a small fishing village on the coast of Nova Scotia.

There was a fish processing plant in the village, where about 30 people worked cleaning, filleting and salting cod. All of them worked at long tables with an opening down the middle of the table into which they scraped the fish guts. All of the guts dropped into a trough, and were supposed to be washed out of the trough into the ocean (where seagulls would feast on them....)

The sprayer that was supposed to keep things moving stopped working, and the guts began to build up in the trough. After about three years, the health department threatened to have the managers all shot if they didn't get the trough cleaned out and the sprayer fixed.

I got a job cleaning out the trough. It only took one day - the longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't smell anything after the first five minutes, my sense of smell having just curled up and died.

When I arrived at home my mother wouldn't let me into the house until I had stripped, bathed (three times) and shaved my head. She burned the clothes I was wearing and all of my hair clippings. It was not pretty.

I spent one summer working as a pumpkin pie inspector in a factory.

I stood on a very noisy conveyer belt for 8 hours a day looking for "bad pies". A bad pie is a pie with half a crust or not enough filling. When I found a bad pie I had to grab it off the line, sticking my thumbs in frozen pumpkin goo, and throw it away. By the end of the day I was orange and smelly.

The worst part of it all? I don't even like pumpkin.

I grew up in a small fishing village on the coast of Nova Scotia.

There was a fish processing plant in the village, where about 30 people worked cleaning, filleting and salting cod. All of them worked at long tables with an opening down the middle of the table into which they scraped the fish guts. All of the guts dropped into a trough, and were supposed to be washed out of the trough into the ocean (where seagulls would feast on them....)

The sprayer that was supposed to keep things moving stopped working, and the guts began to build up in the trough. After about three years, the health department threatened to have the managers all shot if they didn't get the trough cleaned out and the sprayer fixed.

I got a job cleaning out the trough. It only took one day - the longest day in the history of the world.

I couldn't smell anything after the first five minutes, my sense of smell having just curled up and died.

When I arrived at home my mother wouldn't let me into the house until I had stripped, bathed (three times) and shaved my head. She burned the clothes I was wearing and all of my hair clippings. It was not pretty.

I don't think anyone can have a job as bad as mine. I worked in food service in a local amusement park that was very small and low quality. Sometimes I would work in a catering building there serving burgers and hot dogs to groups that had company picnics at the park. Not only was it EXTREMELY boring, but they cook the food back there and it gets so hot you can barely breathe.

One day it was so hot I passed out right in the middle of work. I hit my head and was rushed to the hospital. Luckily I had no serious injuries. Another bad part about the job is they serve beer in the park so you have drunks hanging all over you and acting weird. One guy told me he was Lawrence of Arabia and another informed me my eyes were the color of lima beans. Another guy dropped his beer on my foot. I also got in a fight with a man that said I spit in his pizza, which I didn't. People would also yell at me if their pizza wasn't done quick enough, and they would endlessly complain about prices. I also had weird coworkers; one guy that worked in the park kept annoying me and asking for my number no matter how many times I said no, and I actually got hit on by a guy with gold teeth.

I don't think it's possible to find a worse job!