It's good to have a paycheck.Follow

So I got my first paycheck this week, and let's face it. Nothing ups job satisfacion like cold hard cash. I've had a series of very different jobs, not always connected and not always interesting, and I'm still on the fence as to my current position. One week into it I had a holiday, and Skeet and I hightailed it out of town once it hit home that my days of painting my toenails while I watch Oprah are over.

While on the five-hour drive to the city, Skeet thought it would be appropriate to call all the numbers on the sides of trucks and report perfectly innocent people for poor driving. This reminded me of an incident that happened many years ago, at one of my old jobs.


I was about 19, and a graphic designer at this DC printhouse. Part of my duties as the only gal were to endure constant sexual innuenduoes, make coffee, and answer the phones. One afternoon I took a call from a lady who called to report one of our drivers. I was a tad surprised when she rattled off the license plate, but not as surprised as I would be once I hung up.

The man in question was an older gentleman of color, one of those classic cases that walks around with a Bible and tells you to "Have a Blessed Day" and other platitudes while secretly watching you when you bend over and giggling about it like a Nancy with his buddies. He had the unforgivable habit of wearing patchouli oil, which must have made him the man back in 1978, but was impossible to get out of one's skin for days should you happen to shake his hand, and the odor of which impregnated his delivery car and immediate vicinity. Let's call him Theodore.

The lady on the phone mumbled for a good minute or so, telling me that she didn't want me to think that she was being awful but she thought we might want to know what had been going on in the company car. Turns out this lady lived in a bad neighborhood, and she had observed the virtuous Theodore pick up a flamboyantly dressed young girl from a corner and take off down the street. Now I was no innocent. I knew what she was, but I decided to play dumb for the sake of details, so I asked her how she knew that the girl in question wasn't a relative or friend.

"Well", she said, "I don't want to get graphic, but I saw.... the motions...her head..."

Yep. Theodore had picked up a prostitute to give him head while he made deliveries in the company car.
The company car that was low to the ground.
The company car with our toll-free number on it.

You haven't lived until you can walk into your boss's office and almost cause him a brain hemmorrage from a combination of shock and laughter.

Later that afternoon, Theodore walked in a big grin. No one wanted to shake his hand, and we were all grinning like idiots. When he got called into the office, we just kept hearing "She was my cousin."

Needless to say he was fired, and that incident become a keeper.

Anyone else have a memorable work tale to share?

Howsabout the time I found an open condom wrapper on my married boss's desk and then emailed him pictures of it? I'm pretty sure that was memorable for him. He remembers to make sure I get paid OT every week, anyway.



The funny part about the matter is that I was sure it was someone else using his office until he gave me the old wink, wink, nudge, nudge bit.

Well, there's this: this.

Also, while I was working at the movie theater in high school, we used to catch people getting blowjobs and find drugs and alcohol all the time. But one night two guys decided to get into a gunfight in the parking lot over a stolen bicycle. Luckily, they were such poor marksmen that no one got shot. It was kind of funny watching people diving over the counter from the security cameras though.

I hate paychecks.

Don't get me wrong; I love the bottom line where it tells me how many beer vouchers will arrive in my Bank account.

What depresses me is the deductions line.

When I see the "PAYE" (UK Income tax (pay as you earn) system) listed as a couple of thou I start imagining what I coulda bought with my tax :-(

Ahh the price of being a pinko libby git

I was 19 and got a job as the "Assistant Food and Beverage Controller" at a large Hotel and Restaurant near where I lived. The title was cooler than the job as my duties were stocking and inventory control of the food and beverages, including liquor, the hotel and restaurant used. I should say that was supposed to be my duties. It seems my boss, the Food and Beverage Controller, had a little problem with the nose candy. I was lucky or unlucky as I never wanted him there, if he showed up for a few hours in the afternoon. I handled my job and his for 9 months before they fired him. His job was to include all the ordering and schmoozing required to get deals from the distributors. They 'asked' me to leave soon after that and made the job part of the Chefs. They asked because they appreciated the effort I put in but not the fun I had. Never place that much booze and food in the utter and complete control of a 19 year old, I don't care how responsible he is. He will succumb to the suggestions of monetary trade from the wait staff, he will ply impressionable female guests with booze and he and his friends will have awesome parties on a regular basis.

God, I miss that job.

Can you snag me some popcorn Tricky? Also some Jr. Mints? I'll pay you back. One day