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Working for a living is killing me
|Posted Sept. 21, 2007|
Maybe it’s me or maybe I’m just not cut out for the working world (at least until I’m done with school) but I just can’t do it. Don’t get me wrong I’m a very hard worker, and I get everything taken care of, but at the same time I can’t help but think about what else I could possibly be doing at that exact moment.
Visions of roller skates, the river and my swimming pool run through my head as I stand behind the counter and fake a smile at my current job.
I wake up at 4:30 a.m. three or four days a week hop in my car and head to work after only getting a few hours of sleep the night before. Once I arrive, I throw on my apron and get busy.
Everything seems all right, (I mean besides the sleep deprivation) until we open.
I am immediately bombarded by cranky customers who have yet to have their caffeine fix and absolutely cannot wait for me to hand them their first espresso drink of the day. I think some people forgot to teach their children to wait their turn and it’s people like me who are suffering the consequences.
Another problem I encounter on a daily basis is one of personal hygiene. Trust me, I am all about saving the environment, but take a shower people. Not only do I smell like bread and espresso when I get home but I am also layered in body odor other than my own.
It may not sound like it but to be completely honest, this is the first job I have ever actually enjoyed. I smell and I’m sleepy but I enjoy my co-workers and could not ask for a better boss.
My job before this was much worse. I was a file clerk for a gastroenterologist. For those of you who aren’t exactly sure what that is, let me sum it up for you: it is a doctor who studies the diseases and disorders of the digestive system from the mouth to the anus.
I know you’re thinking it doesn’t get worse than that, but trust me it does. The files include pictures and samples. That’s right, people actually mail their poop to the doctor.
On top of that the office manager was a complete moron and had her daughter (who was also a moron) follow her around all day as they insisted on straightening picture frames and reorganizing furniture.
Prior to the poop filing, I worked at a local treatery that has forever ruined ice cream for me and my thoughts on 13-year-old boys. Scoop after scoop after scoop, it was not too long until everyone’s favorite dessert began smelling like vomit to me. I believe the smell was ultimately the reason I left. That and the fact that every night I was being harassed by boys 10 to 13 years old who insisted on using every word in their adult vocabulary in attempt to pursue an older woman.
It also did not help that the plumbing was less than great and always seemed to overflow the nights I was scheduled to close.
One of my professors told me that I have already borrowed enough money to attend school and that I should just borrow a little more, forget work all together and focus on my studies. In my perfect world that is exactly what I would do. I have a feeling that that’s just not going to happen for me and I will continue on down the road of poor-paying part time jobs.
Madison Steff, a senior communications major, is LV Life editor of the Campus Times. She can be reached by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.