12 May 2008


My dad worked in a liquor store for 30 years. I guess he liked it. Me, I'd rather die right now than spend the next 3 decades in retail hell. But as long as I'm in school, I can only work part-time, and I have no skills, so I'm stuck with the same kind of thing. This blog is a chronicle of all the crappy jobs I'm bound to go through in the next four years, while I finish my degree (or fail, or get distracted by something more fun).

I'll start with past jobs. At the age of 18, I've been the following:

Page at a library,
minimum wage,
stocking shelves,
no human interaction,
in my hometown

Fuel dock supervisor,
11.50, nice,
full time,
handing gas hoses to boat people and chilling in the sun

Clothing store cashier,
boring as hell but a good coworker who was into air guitar,
in awesome Tofino.

Fuel dock again,
11.00, full time,
really cool people to work with,
back in the hometown.

Subway slave,
nowhere near enough hours,
bitchy customers and mental patients from the hospital down the street,
coworkers who don't speak English,
in Victoria.

Safeway slave
8.75 minus union dues,
extra bitchy customers,
way too many hours,
brutal work in every way.

Pedicab driver
Most fun job by far,
free beer and weed,
but no money unless you're a born salesman, which I'm not.

And finally,
back in another gas station, a Shell this time.
8 bucks an hour.

yeah, I went from 11.50/hour, to 11, to 9, to 8.75, to 8. I'm obviously doing something wrong. In the future we will explore just how retarded I am and attempt to find explanations, maybe even solutions. Bear with me folks. Tomorrow is my second day at the gas station.

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