Yes I have cleaned toilets

['Chair]

12&13 ($4/hr)- worked for my uncle washing dishes in his restaurant (that he bought from my dad). quit on the spot when I found out he was paying the other 2 guys (that I had trained) more than me. called my mom to pick me up.

14 ($?) - passed over for a job bagging groceries. that job went to the neighborhood "special kid". I know I could have done a better job than him. I mowed lawns that summer.

15 ($5.15-6.50/hr) - worked at boston market (needed a worker's permit because I wasn't 16). I did everything from washing the bathrooms and dishes, to cooking and quartering the chicken, to cashier and or line-plater. sucked.

16 - quit Boston Market telling my Boss that I was his best employee and was not being compensated accordingly. Told him I wanted a substantial raise or promotion, and left to work for my dad when he couldn't meet my request.

16-19 ($8-$12/hr) - worked for my dad in his restaurant "MidCity Oyster Bar and Grill" when I worked everything from prep to pantry/pastrie to grill to fryer to sautee till I was line chef (on the head chef's days off). Sautee was hard...I burnt my hands a lot. Occasionally helped out when I needed some money while I was home for college. By then I preferred to be the bar back and keep the kegs full, ice full, and shuck oysters. I was interested in alcohol at that point.


As you can see I spent most of my time working in the food industry. And while it taught me to appreciate good food and good service, I will never work in one or own one again.


In restaurants...
- ALL wait<u>resses</u> will cry at least once in the first 6 months.
- Kitchen staff thinks they are better than the wait staff and treat them accordingly when "the rush" hits...(but that's only because base pay is higher and they are too dumb to realize what a good waiter/tress can make in tips).
- Nobody works harder than illegal immigrants. Nobody.
- When it comes to firing people, Donald Trump ain't got [censored] on my dad.
- There is nothing sluttier than a 16-17yr old hostess.

[solids]

Warning: Long, but semi-entertaining (imo).

My first official job was the worst job I've ever had. I was 17 years old and in desperate need to money, so I decided to apply for the bag boy position at the local P&amp;C Supermarket (comparable to the A&amp;P I guess). A few friends of mine worked there, so I got the job pretty easily.

The first thing I noticed about my new job was the hideous get-up they expected us to wear. They gave me a bright teal polo shirt (-$5 from my first paycheck) and put me through a quick crash course on the fine art of being a bag boy. My responsibilities were relatively simple -- empty the bottle return machine, retrieve the shopping carts from outside, and of course, bagging those groceries. I quickly learned a few tricks of the trade: never ask the imfamous "paper or plastic?" (always assume plastic because it's faster to bag), don't bag meats and produce, etc.

Along with a whopping $5.25/hour salary, management also graciously provided the workers with a 5% discount on all food purchases. While getting a 20 cent discount on a deli sandwich sounds like an amazing deal, we found other ways to compensate -- we stole. A lot. We helped ourselves to anything from a Snickers bar to a disposable camera. Within my first month of working there, I pocketed roughly $100 worth of merchandise. Another fellow bag boy and friend devised an ingenious way of stealing beer. Whenever he dumped the empty beer bottles from the bottle return out back, he'd slip in 12 full bottles from the storage room. At the end of the day, he would simply leave out of the front, drive around to the back, and drive off with free beer. He was later caught red handed and promtly fired for this.

Eventually, I was "promoted" to cashier (no raise). This job was horrible, as I had to stand in one place for 6 hours at a time (no sitting down) and deal with stupid customers. I saw it all, from rednecks trying to buy beer with food stamps to geniuses attempting to pay me with $20 bills that looked like they were copied at Kinko's. Those customers that argued with me for 15 minutes because their expired coupons wouldn't go through the register really brightened up my day, too.

It wasn't all bad though. I made a lot of good friends while working there. More importantly, a lot of good looking girls worked there as well. Whenever it was relatively slow, you could definitely count on a lot of flirting, one of which eventually led to a hookup. [img]/images/graemlins/grin.gif[/img] And then, of course, there was Ken. Ken was a creepy, drunk 26 year old who worked in the stockroom and always bought us beer and liquor. He drank, smoked, and swore, but he always pulled through, no questions asked.

My bosses were generally decent and basically left us alone to do our jobs. Although one boss, Sam, was a huge prick. This jerkoff was about 5'3, 30 years old, and bitter as hell. I can't blame him, I suppose. 30 years old and working for $7.35/hour at a grocery store? So yeah, this dude was clearly pissed off at life. Luckily, he took out all of his frustrations on me. He hated me, so I, in turn hated him. Every day, he did his best to make my life a living hell. Scheduling [censored] hours for me, yelling at me for nothing, you name it.

The fued reached it's boiling point near the end of the summer. I had already given my 2 weeks notice. I was at my register, friendly conversing with a middle aged woman I knew. Sam was behind the customer service counter, and was trying to get my attention for some unimportant reason. I ignored him, and continued to chat with the customer as I completed her checkout. After two failed attempts of trying to get my attention, he yells, "Hey retard!" It was as if someone abruptly scratched a record. The lady I was speaking with was in shock and had a 'WTF, is this guy serious' look on her face. I calmly and coldly said, "Excuse me, Gary Coleman. I'm speaking with a customer. I'll be with you in a minute."

I went home that night and wrote a letter to him. I wish I had saved a copy, because this thing was bad. Really bad. I said many horrible things about his character and appearance. Let's just say that some of the main themes of the letter were that he's "a midget with a Napoleon complex", "a huge loser at life", and he's "jealous, because when he's making chump change in a dead end job, I'll be going to a good college and getting a real job", etc. Just all in all, really hateful stuff. The letter ended up being one whole page of single-spaced glory. At my last day of work, I calmly came up to his desk, dropped the letter on his desk, told him to kindly go [censored] himself, and left the P&amp;C for the last time. In retrospect, it was all pretty juvenile and low, but felt damn good at the time.

[ethan]

[ QUOTE ]
two summers ago I did catering at $12/hour + tips, which was another several hundred dollars for the summer. Catering varied from super easy to extremely difficult work depending on the party, crew and manager. But most of the people I worked with were awesome and it was often a blast. People at weddings are drunk and happy, which makes them very easy to deal with. No, I never went home with a bridesmaid. I highly recommend catering to HS and college students as a summer or part-time job.

[/ QUOTE ]

I did a bunch of catering in HS because my best friend's father ran a deli/catering business. $50/day in cash, incredible food and I could drink on the job at 16 while hanging out with my friends. This job was awesome in so many ways, among them that there was a pretty good rotation of attractive coworkers. The work wasn't hard and I was reasonably competent, which made it the only employment I had during all of high school.

[Snafu'd]

In college I once worked at a warehouse that was responsible for distributing textbooks to various schools - elementary through high school. My job was to actually thumb through the books and either pass them or fail them based on the condition of the book. I lasted four hours before walking out at break time and never coming back.

[SackUp]

My dad is a general contractor, so I worked on a jobsite since I could walk. I didn't really start working until I was in high school during the summertime.

I had to do all sorts of stuff from digging ditches to cleaning windows to sweeping/mopping floors to taking out the trash (including going in huge dumpster bins and smashing everything down).

I also got to do all of the real construction work like finishing concrete, drywalling, framing, roofing, etc. It is pretty cool to have done all that stuff. I learned what real work was. Though, I'm glad my dad completely supported my education and I'm now an attorney.