Child Labour
There 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?
( , Fri 17 Feb 2006, 12:05)
There 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?
( , Fri 17 Feb 2006, 12:05)
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Every cloud....
When I was about 14, a paperboy in the next town went missing from his paper round, and subsequently turned out to have been murdered by a paedophile. This is a terribly sad but true story.
Until the man who did it was caught, there was a very real sense of panic among parents that this person could strike again. So many stopped their children from doing their paper rounds
Obviously, this led to a skills shortage in my local town of people with a the relevant qualifications to deliver newspapers. i.e. posession of bicycle, ability to read numbers on front of doors.
The newsagents were either having to deliver the papers themselves, or ask their customers to come fetch them. Not an ideal situation.
Seeing an opportunity to cash in, I strolled into my local Dillons (local paper shop chain) and said "Any paper rounds going?".
The following day I found myself laden with three day-glo orange bags on my Raleigh Mountain Bike (with mudguards that my Dad insisted I have, I mean how gay are mud guards on a mountain bike?) spending an hour and a half delivering papers to the mostly elderly residents of my town, who turned out to be excellent Christmas tippers!
I kept this up for the next 18 months, and also took on an evening paper round too. I ended up being shit at school, but rich (for a 14 year old).
So I'd like to extend a big hand of thanks to that paperboy, who's untimely demise indirectly benefitted me to the tune of about £25 a week. Cheers.
So not really a story of how I was exploited as a child, but a story of how I exploited the newspaper delivery industry. Yes.
Next week: How I got a school caretakers job in Cambridgeshire, when the previous employee had to leave the post unexpectedly.
( , Mon 20 Feb 2006, 10:03, Reply)
When I was about 14, a paperboy in the next town went missing from his paper round, and subsequently turned out to have been murdered by a paedophile. This is a terribly sad but true story.
Until the man who did it was caught, there was a very real sense of panic among parents that this person could strike again. So many stopped their children from doing their paper rounds
Obviously, this led to a skills shortage in my local town of people with a the relevant qualifications to deliver newspapers. i.e. posession of bicycle, ability to read numbers on front of doors.
The newsagents were either having to deliver the papers themselves, or ask their customers to come fetch them. Not an ideal situation.
Seeing an opportunity to cash in, I strolled into my local Dillons (local paper shop chain) and said "Any paper rounds going?".
The following day I found myself laden with three day-glo orange bags on my Raleigh Mountain Bike (with mudguards that my Dad insisted I have, I mean how gay are mud guards on a mountain bike?) spending an hour and a half delivering papers to the mostly elderly residents of my town, who turned out to be excellent Christmas tippers!
I kept this up for the next 18 months, and also took on an evening paper round too. I ended up being shit at school, but rich (for a 14 year old).
So I'd like to extend a big hand of thanks to that paperboy, who's untimely demise indirectly benefitted me to the tune of about £25 a week. Cheers.
So not really a story of how I was exploited as a child, but a story of how I exploited the newspaper delivery industry. Yes.
Next week: How I got a school caretakers job in Cambridgeshire, when the previous employee had to leave the post unexpectedly.
( , Mon 20 Feb 2006, 10:03, Reply)
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