Child LabourThere is a special part of Hell I'd like to reserve for those arses that order every single Sunday paper. Do you know how heavy that makes the bundle of papers some poor kid (ie me) has to lug around? Funny how your papers always seemed to get mangled in your letterbox...
I loved my paper round, but, looking back, I was getting paid peanuts to ruin my back and cycle around in the cold and dark. How were you exploited as a child?
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chthonic, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 12:05)
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white goldI spent most of my childhood in Canada, where it snows - a lot. My dad would pimp out my younger brothers and I around the neighbourhood as snow shovellers. Blizzards would drop thick wet dumps over a foot deep onto giant double driveways. Our backs would ache, we'd lose the feeling in our hands and feet, our noses would start to run and the snot would freeze inside them. Then go red and fall off. After a couple hours, just before we'd finish, the plough would come down the road and leave a thick wall of slush and ice at the end of the drive. I still associate blue flashing lights with heartbreak and despair. And for all our efforts, we got about $5 each.
But afterwards, the hot chocolate tasted like sweet heaven.
(, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 14:55, Reply)
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