My worst job
Before the start of my last term at Brighton Poly, I had a string of temp jobs over the summer down there.

The first two weeks were ok - night shifts changing backup tapes around in the American Express data centre there, complete with a fresh ground coffee vending machine - big hopper of beans on the top, put your 5p in (in 1988) and get the lovely fresh coffee out, which helped me to stay awake.

That finished, and the next job was working as a night security guard for a big trade fair they had down there. Not bad in itself, but the shifts were long. Seventeen hours long - from half four (so whichever stand you were sitting that night could breif you on any special requirements before they all packed up at five) until half nine the following morning (to give them time to all get to their stands after their arduous hospitality drinking the night before).

I was a skint student, so the only way I had to get to my dingy little shared flat in Whitehawk Road was shanks' pony - about 20 minutes each way. Leaving me about six hours a day in which to buy food, eat it, shower, change, and sleep.

The conference, and therefore the job lasted two weeks, with no breaks. By the end I had lost over a stone - there was nothing to eat or drink except the complimentary peanuts or crisps some of the stands gave out to visitors - and was starting to hallucinate from the sleep deprivation.

Never ever again.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 11:48, 1 reply)

Ahhh
Lovely lovely Whitehawk.

Many a shitty 80's summer holiday spent there, it even made me miss London.
( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 15 Apr 2011, 17:47, closed)