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# Me mate had a job
in a chicken slaughter house. He had to deliver the 'coup de grace' to all the chickens that had survived the initial electric shock treatment, by ringing the little blighters necks. He also worked on a line there where he had to shape chicken kievs, by grabbing and squeezing them so they went err... kiev shaped.
(, Fri 14 Nov 2003, 14:25, archived)
# My first job after leaving school
was at the local Morrisons supermarket. I got a job pushing trollies around the car park for £2.01 per hour (what was the point of the 1p?). It was soon winter and my fingers were so cold that you get that effect where your little finger gets paralysed and won't bend properly. But I couldn't wear gloves because that would mean constantly taking them off and on again to take the pound coins (which we were expected to provide ourselves) out of the trolley, until we discovered you can get the trollies out with a small screwdriver (the next summer). I used to plead and constantly write letters asking for a transfer inside to a less monotonous, lonely, gruelling job but the sad fact was, I actually got good at pushing trollies, so they noticed that (without EVER saying thanks) and deliberately kept me out there, seeing as nobody could shift those trollies quite as fast as me.

There were only four 'trolley pushers' there. One was called Les, who was a nice bloke but had problems with diabetes and so was off sick a lot. He was supposed to be on my Saturday shift with me but when he was on sick I'd end up covering the whole car park by myself, pushing about 15 trollies at a time (you're only supposed to do 8), dodging cars and stupid customers. So I was doing the work of two men, and even if it was really bad and I went in to ask for someone to send out more staff to help, nobody ever came out, they were always 'too busy' or just didn't want to go out in the cold. Losers. In the end I stopped asking, I was capable of doing the whole job alone- I even did a Christmas Eve all by myself. I must have been a right mug. The only bonuses were the occasional abandoned trolley with the pound coin still in, the 24 pack of John Smiths someone once left in a trolley, and thirty quid someone once left sticking out of the cash machine. Apart from that it was hell, having to dodge fireworks and snowballs being thrown at me by local cracker ass kids and being told to fish trollies out of the nearby beck by the bastard excuse for a manager. I applied for load of other part-time jobs with no luck, I was stuck in car park purgatory.

I eventually got transferred (after 2 years) to the petrol station, which was a vast improvement, though still boring. By this time I'd flunked out of college twice and couldn't find a 'real' job, so I joined the Army.... and hated it so much that I was out in 3 months and, you guessed it, back at Morrisons (but this time working with the Fruit and Veg, which doesn't involve freezing your bollocks off but does involve evil 4am starts). I did eventually get into Uni, deliberately chosing a spot where there wasn't a Morrisons for 70 miles, and was so happy to leave Morrisons forever!!!

Or so I thought.... After failing to get any other job to fund me through my studies, I ended up skint and having to apply to the local Safeway, which happily took me on. I thought Safeway (at least this one) to be much better my old Morrisons- the manager is a nice bloke, not the scumbag who used to be in charge at my old place (and who got transferred to another store two months after I left- he makes my life a misery for six years and then when I go, so does he!) And then it all goes full circle and Morrisons are going to take Safeway over AND IT'S ALL GOING TO GO HORRIBLY WRONG AGAIN!!! As soon as the takeover is complete, I'm going to quit, and see if I can survive on my student loan...
(, Fri 14 Nov 2003, 19:33, archived)