T1B

Paper route
Score keeper for Bowling tournies
Usher-Joe Louis Arena
Security-Boblo Boats
Beer stand-Cedar Pointe

Cicero wrote:I apologize for being busy at work and not fully explaining myself.

BOGO on Metamucil at GNC?

Do you really think we're sitting here waiting for you to weigh in on every God-damned topic? Take your time. Formulate a cogent take. Wait a day or two. Type up that one sentence you struggled so hard with... then mash the submit button. Put that Master's from Duke to good use.

I never glossed that. You comedians thought that one up all on your own.

I see that Cicero often responds in a passive-aggressive manner. This would indicate a fundamental bitch nature. I don't respect him.

When I was 13 or 14, I got a job officiating track meets for the school district.

I usually officiated the pole vault.

So, one afternoon, I'm working the pola vault, and for some reason, one team has this fat kid doing the vault. Kid's trying to clear all of about 6 feet, but for some reason founf it neccessary to grab about 15 feet up on the pole. Fatty plants the tip of the pole in the box, flexes the pole, and gets his full 15 feet of extension. And then, a really huge wind gust blew right in towards him, and Fatty's forward momentum just stopped....stopped freaking dead. He gets scared, and wraps both arms and both legs around the pole, and the wind just keeps pushing him back the direction he came. Straight back...until he came down head-first on the freaking pavement.

Funny fucking shit. You can only imagine the difficulty I had trying the yell "MEDIC!!!" through my fits of laughter. The guilt I felt from that episode last at least several seconds.

We used to steal a bunch of .22 caliber blank from the strater's pistols, for later use during school.

Way to embellish, mang. I landed on my shoulder not my head.

Rip City

Never got an allowance as both parents were teachers. As an elementary school-aged kid I started by mowing lawns until a few cheap bastards started stiffing me or were constantly late on payments.

Since where I lived was all surrounded by vineyards owned by Armenians and going to school with their grandkids, I got a little work going out to roll the grape trays before they went to Sunmaid in Fresno. I learned enough to when I was in high school we moved to a 3 acre place that had a vineyard on the 3 acres. Dad took them all out and left me a row of grape vines for my hobby while he put in hybrid orange trees with drip irrigation. So starting off as a 7th grader, I made $600 each harvest on one row of vines. As a 9th grader I learned how to install sprinklers except the electrical solenoid hookups the boss would do and I did all of the rest including being taken to the nursery to pick out the supplies of PVC, glues, tapes, risers, sprinkler heads, tools, etc. After awhile I got to use the trencher as the guy started trusting me. That's not going to be a constant revenue source.

So next, I finally get a 1970 Pontiac LeMans my grandmother couldn't drive anymore when I got my license as a 10th grader. In order to install a Concord stereo (they were pretty good at first), buy my Judas Priest, AC/DC, Van Halen, etc. tapes... oh and then buy rims, tires, manifold, carb, headers, etc. then I had to get a job that was steady. After football, basketball, and track practices along with weekends I worked on a turkey ranch. Those birds are so fucking stupid they would get 3 in a cage to lay eggs. I still feel bad about maiming, beating, and killing a few birds and throwing them down the "dead hole" which is just a big hole the drill like you'd drop a sewer tank in. Every time they would hit the bottom of the pit, the last bit of air in their lungs would compress and go out as you hear a flatulent type sound. That was terrible.

Anyway, one day my buddy threw an egg at me since that it what we were collecting and then processed, and packaged to go off to be hatched to make Butterballs, etc. The egg fight that ensued about got us fired. The foreman was in and out of jail his whole life with tatoos of a guy holding a dick bigger than the character all over his body. He was married to a fat wife that weighed 400lbs (kids were Type II candidates also) and broke one of our work benches when she sat on it. Roy the boss who supervised Fred later said she is a "big woman." He looked like the guy in Mikey's avatar. So... anyway Fred noticed the egg count was about 50 eggs lower than normal. So he goes out in the barn and sees the carnage of bird embryos splattered everywhere.

So every time a new group of high school kids would go to work over there after Brent and I moved on, Fred would exaggerate the egg numbers. It got up to 300 eggs the last time he told the story. The "4 F's." Fred's Fat Fucking Family is what we glossed them. Fred wasn't fat but actually pretty funny guy. His wife and kids were horrible looking hogs. He liked us so he kept us from getting fired. I don't blame him for going to jail to get away from his hog. We made good money there and I drove back by there a few years ago when going up to the river to go fishing. The place looked like it "burned down" except for the charred remains of the building frame, which is pretty big. I think the actual owner that wrote the checks, looked exactly like a televangelist complete with the Robert Tilden hair and cologne, got arrested for something illegal.

Now those are the high school age and younger work stories.

Good times...

My "resume"
corn detassling during summer between 7th and 8th grade
worked two summers in the accounting department at my mom's work
concession stand worker at Wings Stadium...for roughly 3 years (junior year of high school through my freshman year of college)
worked 6 days at Sam's Club in 2001...and I've never stepped foot in Sam's or a Walmart since
worked for about a half year at small newspaper doing odd jobs during the weekend...graphic design stuff
worked at FedEx Ground for almost 3 years as a package handler...save your jokes :P

Current job: graphic designer for building controls company since June 2005

88 wrote:Pizza cook

Typical Buckeye...

88 wrote:Rental car vehicle repositioner

That is an actual job? Hahah!

Jobs as a kid? Only one...

Fucking Lawn Mower. Push mower at that! If you know how hot it gets here in the swamp then you know how much of a suck gig that was.

Are you a Dungslinger troll or a Toronto tard? It's a toss up.

My Dad always had something for me to do in the family masonry business, it's a curse.
Paper Route
Worked at a full service Gas Station
Worked assembly line jobs at a carpet manufacturing company

Y2K wrote:My Dad always had something for me to do in the family masonry business

Spent a lot of time getting stoned, eh?

Maybe so in yer book, but Y2K is without a doubt the best friend one can ever have on the planet. Not even close to second place on that battle field.

hey AP,

working with masonry <-> getting stoned

get it? guess not.

lighten up a little, huh?

Two seasons selling hot dogs at Mile high Stadium.

Delivered Denver Post

Only person in here honest enough to be up front about being a fry guy at Burger King.

But I did lay the wood to the Prep girl. We parked to make out, she ordered me to drop the pants, and she worked that thing like a water pump.

Almost scared the shit out of me.

bray2 wrote:Only person in here honest enough to be up front about being a fry guy at Burger King.

But I did lay the wood to the Prep girl. We parked to make out, she ordered me to drop the pants, and she worked that thing like a water pump.

Almost scared the shit out of me.

Thanks for the good laugh on a slow Sunday morning...RACK

Think about that next time your in a BK and you see that pretty girl slapping the lettuce and cheese on that Whopper. The night before she had those grippers all over the pimply-faced bun guys pipe.

Or maybe 15 minutes ago during her last break.

I'll play.

When I was 10 years old (I remember that specifically for a reason which will be clear later), I started helping the paperboy deliver papers. He'd throw a dollar or two my way each time. At the time I thought that was big money. Anyway, he got a part-time job so he was looking to give up his paper route, and offered it to me. He told me I had to be 11, and I told him I was a few months away from my 11th birthday (I didn't know enough to lie back then). So he checked on it with the circulation department, and they vetoed me for that reason. It went to someone else, and because the paper routes covered a significant distance, there was only one in my neighborhood, and I never got it.

I did the usual odd jobs thing, mowing lawns, shoveling driveways, etc. As I got older, I umpired little league baseball games. I also got part-time jobs at Carvel and Wegman's (both names with which upstate NY'ers are or should be familiar). In college, I had more part-time jobs than I can remember.

Best-paying part-time "kid" job I ever had, at least for the time I had it, was when I was 14 years old. My father was a banker, and needed some landscaping done at his bank. So he hired me. Unfortunately, it was only for one day. It was a full day of work, but I got paid $50. At the time (remember, this was late 1970's), minimum wage was only $2.90/hr. IIRC, so that was an awful lot of money to me.

Cicero wrote:

ucantdoitdoggieSTyle2 wrote:

Cicero wrote:I was lucky enough to not have to work until my first summer after College. I worked at GNC.

Let me get this straight. Your "degree" from Duke was good enough to net you a job in retail?

Actually, that should have read " summer after my Freshman Year." I was 19 at the time. I could see how some of you anke biters would have read that wrong. My mistake.

Sooooo, props to you for your parents finally removing the silver spoon from your anus at age 19? Don't think so.

Started at my local garden center/greenhouse at 15. Loading people's cars up, keeping the retail area full of fresh plants, and occasionally helping to pick strawberries, apples, etc. I worked at that place all through HS then every few weekends while in college. For a few years, used to have one of those Vespas or whatever the call 'em just to get back and forth... well that and the occasional party up in the apple orchard at night. Frickin' riot flying up and down the orchard rows at night half drunk. For some reason, some people just can't grasp the concept of letting go of the throttle when you want to stop or slow down, especially when panicked. Remember one time some chick was headin' right for a tree, not at a high rate of speed or anything (at least at THAT point), and began to panic a bit. Her pea-sized brain ('sup AP?) shortwires and tells her right hand to gun it while the other applies the brake. The throttle hand won. No, check that... the tree won.

I forgot about my coolest job as a kid. When I was about 15, we had a brass ensemble outside of school, and we'd get gigs doing grand openings and weddings and whatnot, and Christmas stuff(didn't need sheet music for any of those Christmas carols...O' Holy Night rules). Play for usually between 1.5 to 2 hours, and get a check for $50. Back then, the minimum wage had just gone to $3.35. I got many times that. Heck, it was hard to make that much in a week working an after school job. I couldn't believe the money I got for doing something I enjoyed. After I got out of school, a family friend said they could get my foot in the door playing in a dance band on a cruise ship, but I didn't want to leave home, and wasn't that interested. Yeah, great decision that was. Probably wouldn't have scored any pussy out of the deal, either...I'm sure.

If I had it all to do over again...**sigh**

dinsdale was a band geek??

is this glass dick or truly hilarious new news????

you gotta problem with that ???



http://home.twcny.rr.com/cortland13045/ ... image6.htm
^^^^^^^
Ronnie Padavona played trumpet in the Cortland High Band.

Not only a band geek but the most popular freshman at band camp.

Believe it or not, I worked at a Subway prior to becoming one of Santa's elite. Getting this gig was tough. The fat bastard turned my resume down like ten times. Finally, I showed up at Kringle's door one day and told the fucker to give me a job or I'd hoofstomp his OL and shit on his welcome mat. The rest is history.