Work, work, work


By Jenni Frazer
March 26, 2010
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Some of us were remembering our lives before the JC, and reminiscing, as you do, about some of the truly terrible jobs we once had.
One of us worked on the check-out at Safeways, sporting a badge with "My name is xxxx. Happy to help." Another worked as a waitress serving Jonathan Ross, Emma Bunton, Dennis Bergkamp (apparently a big tipper.) Another colleague got fired from a fish and chippie for accidentally defrauding the till (mainly because she couldn't add up).
One of us ended up with 48 spare boxes of Wrigley's chewing gum after getting bored with handing out free samples at university. One of us was a milkman, stuck shlepping heavy crates up many flights of stairs in Maida Vale mansion blocks. One of us lasted just one day as a delivery driver for a florist - geographically challenged, I think you might say.
And I, it has to be admitted, was fired as a shampoo girl after failing to wash the rigid hairspray out of a pub landlady's towering beehive. She had to have all her hair cut and I was chucked out forthwith.
We have decided that this is the perfect pre-Pesach game to share. Contributions welcome, the funnier the better.

COMMENTS

Robyn Rosen

Fri, 03/26/2010 - 16:16

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Don't forget the certain someone who got sacked from their Father Christmas post...


Jessica Elgot

Fri, 03/26/2010 - 16:22

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Prizes if you can match the JC writers to their terrible jobs....


Marcus Dysch

Fri, 03/26/2010 - 16:22

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I once worked at a call centre where the main job was to ring victims of crime and interview them about their experience. Wasn't great.

There was only me and one other man in the office. All the other colleagues were single mothers and old women. One was an alcoholic and possible prostitute.

He was a, shall we say, slightly uncouth chap. Serial gambler, probable alcoholic, perhaps not long since accommodated at Her Majesty's pleasure. He was also the boss.

He befriended me due to our mutual love of sport, and worked very hard to encourage me to turn down my place on a journalism MA course in order to help him run the call centre and move in to share his flat on Europe's largest council estate.

He also pronounced my name in the single most common way I've ever heard it said.

He was actually quite a nice guy, but 'sadly' I couldn't take him up on his offers of work and housing.

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