Worst Job In The World
March 7th, 2007 by robin
What is the worst job you have ever had? This question usually finds its best audience at a supper party or amongst a group of friends trying to out do each other with tales of diabolical jobs we had as students, when we were in the 'anything legal for cash' frame of mind.
I had some jobs, which upon reflection were none to engaging. I spent one summer up a thirty foot (triple extension) ladder, working for the railway. My job was to paint metal bridges with a coat of rustproof paint. Sometimes trains would pass alongside us (we were told that would never happen) and if you fell off, serious injury awaited you. It was dirty, dangerous work. However it was never a terrible job because the kinship of shared experience, and the black humour that pervaded every conversation, made for a great working experience. The same can be said of the various other unglamorous jobs that I took; truck driver, demolition worker, door to door salesman, and a few I would prefer to forget.
Though many of the jobs were undemanding, or unrewarding, I always found colleagues who made the jobs easier to endure. It is where I learnt the value of a pound. I also learnt the value of choice. I was a student, these jobs were always temporary, I knew I would be moving on – I was never quite sure where, but somewhere away from that current awful job.
However after college I got into regular work, in advertising and it wasn’t me. I wasn’t engaged, the profession was not what I had imagined, I thought of myself as a creative type who would spend his time thinking up slogans, it wasn’t to be. I realised any job in which you are not engaged, is boring at best and hell at worst.
This is especially true of people who find themselves in customer facing professions. I went for a bike ride the other day, then went for a hot chocolate (as I have given up my beloved caffeine). In the small café there were two girls serving, who I have seen before. They never smile, and eye contact is kept to a minimum with customers. One didn’t have to be a forensic psychiatrist to figure out these young ladies were not engaged with the job let alone the customers, everything was done mechanically, without the slightest joy.
The hot chocolate was fine, as was the piece of pie that I figured I had earned, but the sight of two people marginally happier than a wrongly imprisoned peace campaigner, was a sorry sight indeed. I even gave a big tip (and I know no one tips café staff in the suburbs of London). No joy.
I was reminded of a quote by Abe Lincoln who commented, "People are as happy as they make up their minds to be." I think the same can be said of engagement.
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