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October 23, 2017, 09:23:22 PM
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Badmovies.org Forum  |  Other Topics  |  Off Topic Discussion  |  Disturbing Jobs You've Done « previous next »
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Author Topic: Disturbing Jobs You've Done  (Read 261 times)
ER
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« on: August 16, 2017, 10:42:45 AM »

Well it's the last day of summer, tomorrow that foul concentration camp zone known as sChOoL kicks in, robbing me of the people I love the most, and while I should be leaving now to be with them, I am stuck in the office til lunchtime waiting on a man I have to meet to get to the post office and do the job our tax dollars are paying him to do instead of having to wait on his lazy self to get done lazily being lazy while he lazes and eats cherries from a jar, doubtlessly in a lazy manner. (He's lazy.)

So while this is not an especially yucky job, well, it's not yucky at all except when Germans swear at me---and short of Yiddish you ain't been cussed out til it's been done in German---it does bring up the topic:

YUCKY JOBS.

Surely someone here has a tale to tell that'll put us right off eating for a while? <-- My voice went higher, so I made it a question.

You know, gross stuff, like giving enemas to hogs, being Amy Winehouse's roadie, temping as a lethal injector in Huntsville, Texas (or doing anything in Huntsville, Texas), jury duty at a child molester's trial, putting in a month as a garbage picker in Port-au-Prince, working as a kindergarten teacher...well maybe not as disgusting as kindergarten teaching, but still something yucky.

Fr'instance my dad, right after he married my seventeen-year-old mom (no, she was not pregnant) realized he had to change schools and get a job because his father cheerfully said:

"Go support yourself, you f**king fool, who the f**k drops out of Columbia on his father's dime for a f**king Irish girl, you twat? New York City is full of women, what the f**k is the matter with you, you stupid s**t, throwing everything away for a f**king Mick? I ought to break your nose for the principle of it all."

So evenings after college Dad got a yucky job. He went to work selling funeral plots, straight-up commission, for a Catholic burial association, and he did not like doing it, it was high-pressure, his bosses were red-faced German Catholic drunks who smoked three packs a day, and he especially hated this one part of the job, wherein if he sold a couple a pair of plots, and knew they had children or grandchildren, and who didn't in the Catholic Midwest of the 1970s, he was supposed to push them to buy an extra plot:

"In case of unforeseen need."

It bothered him to sour the occasion by suggesting someone they loved was going to abruptly die, so right in the middle of a presentation in the summer of 1978, my twenty-one-year-old father got up and apologized to the elderly pair he was pitching and said, "I just can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

And he left.

He still says it was the worst job of his life.

It's all ironic, because the funeral industry also factors into my own yuckiest job.

About fourteen years ago I was working on a military base (not in the military, but working on a base) and we needed more space for what we were doing, so some higher-ups gave us this building that was then being used primarily for storage. Well, this was during the worst of the Iraq War, and what was being stored there, hidden away so as not to lower morale, was a lot of morgue equipment. It was not an actual morgue, to be clear, just a small building, but it had things in there that most of us want to remain a mystery so we can not have bad dreams at night.

I was told to watch over our own equipment as it was set up in there, making sure none got taken out by mistake, and the military personnel who were tasked with removing the morgue supplies came in and it was only two young Airmen and they were sweating carrying all this to a truck, so what could I do but lend a hand (even though death gets in my head real deeply) so little ol' me helped haul out sealed and banded stacks of genuine body bags from this building to a truck.

Okay they were pristine, doubtless sanitary, no dirtier than a sandwich baggie straight out of the factory, but it was the idea that I was carrying what would possibly contain dead human beings in the near future....it was not just yucky, it got into me that night and gave me an awful feeling.

So, that's probably my yuckiest job, or the yuckiest I'll admit to. (No, I think it is the yuckiest.)

All righty, anyone cares to contribute, brag, boast, gross-out, feel free. As for me, well look, I've filled twenty minutes, bringing me closer to getting home for the day!

Shalom, y'all!

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sprite75
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« Reply #1 on: August 16, 2017, 12:05:01 PM »

One restaurant job I had I had to clean the men's room after an older man hosed it down with everything he ate over the past few days.  I went home afterwards and took the hottest shower I could stand.  The way I washed my uniform multiple times I'm probably lucky it didn't shrink or come apart in the washing machine. 
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Paquita
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« Reply #2 on: August 16, 2017, 01:09:40 PM »

My mom had very light blonde hair when she was a kid and as she got older, her hair darkened so she regularly colored it at home.  When she met my father, he started coloring her hair for her.  He did a much better job than she or her friends were able to do, which I imagine, would sometimes draw snickers and jokes.  I think he took great pleasure in explaining to people that he learned to color hair, and do make-up, while living with a mortician which he would often assist with the job of beautifying the dead. 

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« Reply #3 on: August 16, 2017, 01:14:31 PM »

A couple of years ago we had two Tornado's (fighter jets, not the weather) collide. Only one of the four crew involved survived. I'd to gather up all the paperwork involved in those two aircraft and take them to a central area, where it would all be quaranteened and poured over as part of the crash investigation.

Anyway, a couple of weeks later I got a message telling me the section Warrant Officer wanted to see me in his office right after lunch time and I was to bring some rolls of sellotape and some A4 pollypockets. I suspected this was some sort of wind up, but went along.

Turned out he had been made responsible for the personal effects of one of the dead men and needed a hand.

Generally packing up his stuff wasn't too bad, putting his uniform away and so on, but every once in a while you'd come across something like a wedding invite, or a little lego figure of a pilot. Just something that would remind you that this stuff had belonged to a real person whose family would never see him again and that was the parts that really got to me.

Anyway, I due to go home to visit my family that weekend, dragged my younger brother down to the local ex-servicemans club in proceeded to get drunker than I have been at any time since I was a teenager. For some reason out of all the bad things I've seen how I felt after helping out with his personal effects trumps everything else.
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« Reply #4 on: August 17, 2017, 05:22:15 PM »

When I checked on board the USS Lockwood in 1983, I volunteered to be on the "Tiger Team."  I thought it was ship's softball or something.
Turns out we were cleaning out all the ventilation ducts on the ship while we sat pierside!  It wasn't that bad, until we got to the galley.  The vent right over the main grill was completely coated with about 3" of grease on all sides, and the only way to get it out was to climb inside the duct and scrape it clean by hand.  I've never felt so filthy in my life!  Grease in my hair, grease in my pants, grease down my shirt - I actually threw away the dungarees I was wearing and used two bars of soap and most of a bottle of shampoo trying to get all that nasty congealed grease off of me! 
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« Reply #5 on: August 18, 2017, 01:31:50 AM »

In my 28 year film career, the only really disturbing job I've ever done is when we went to companies which were shutting down - a lot of film companies closed during the early 90s due to the subsidy film scandal which rocked our industry - and we removed their films. I did this several times and eventually refused to do it anymore as it made me feel like a vulture.
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« Reply #6 on: August 18, 2017, 08:53:02 AM »

Memory lane:

When I was a teenager, I lived too far from civilization to get a "real" job, so I worked dawn-till-dusk for local farmers, doing mostly hay and straw bailing/stacking in the mound (over 110 degrees F! non-stop). In addition to all things hay/straw, we performed other farm "duties" that needed done, including everything to do with mowing, livestock feeding, walking in cattle sh!t, and one very disgusting day, pulling a calf.

Now, I wasn't really prepared as a 15 year old to watch a farmer go arm-deep up a cow to tie a rope around a calf we had to pull out.

I've seen and done other unpleasant things at various unpleasant jobs over the years, but that was probably the yuckiest.
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« Reply #7 on: August 18, 2017, 01:08:34 PM »

In 1986 I worked on Ted Nugent's mink ranch in Marcellus,MI.
It wasn't really a "ranch". It was a concentration camp for mink and fox. It consisted of 4 long pole barns-no sides-just a roof over them. Under these "barns" was rows and rows of long benches with tiny 2 by 2 wire mesh cages with a wooden shoebox size shelter in them-that's where the mink lived.
You killed the mink by putting them in a large enclosed pallet box being pulled by a tractor.Grab them with thick leather gloves (because they tried to bite the s**t out of ya) and open the small top on top of the box-toss them into the box.Thing is-the exhaust from the tractor was funneled into the box. We gassed them. The screeching of those poor critters was gruesome. Then-when the hides were removed-the dead bodies-guts and all-were put into a huge meat grinder-turned into a disgusting pink paste. This was FED to the surviving mink. The hides were taken to the de-fleshing room. They were clipped to fast spinning lathes and you took an knife and removed all the fat from the underside of the skins. And that nasty fat would fly into your face-so we all wore ski masks and googles. All this was done in mid winter-with no heat.
Everyone there we're constantly hammered drunk. You had to be.
I quit after 2 weeks.
Disgusting.
 I'll never listen to Ted Nugent's music again.
« Last Edit: August 18, 2017, 01:14:45 PM by RCMerchant » Logged

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ER
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The world becomes a dream....


« Reply #8 on: August 18, 2017, 03:47:28 PM »

In 1986 I worked on Ted Nugent's mink ranch in Marcellus,MI.
It wasn't really a "ranch". It was a concentration camp for mink and fox. It consisted of 4 long pole barns-no sides-just a roof over them. Under these "barns" was rows and rows of long benches with tiny 2 by 2 wire mesh cages with a wooden shoebox size shelter in them-that's where the mink lived.
You killed the mink by putting them in a large enclosed pallet box being pulled by a tractor.Grab them with thick leather gloves (because they tried to bite the s**t out of ya) and open the small top on top of the box-toss them into the box.Thing is-the exhaust from the tractor was funneled into the box. We gassed them. The screeching of those poor critters was gruesome. Then-when the hides were removed-the dead bodies-guts and all-were put into a huge meat grinder-turned into a disgusting pink paste. This was FED to the surviving mink. The hides were taken to the de-fleshing room. They were clipped to fast spinning lathes and you took an knife and removed all the fat from the underside of the skins. And that nasty fat would fly into your face-so we all wore ski masks and googles. All this was done in mid winter-with no heat.
Everyone there we're constantly hammered drunk. You had to be.
I quit after 2 weeks.
Disgusting.
 I'll never listen to Ted Nugent's music again.

Well, I need therapy now.
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indianasmith
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« Reply #9 on: August 19, 2017, 12:19:27 AM »

Ever take some of that paste home and cook it?   BounceGiggle
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« Reply #10 on: August 19, 2017, 12:30:10 AM »

Ever take some of that paste home and cook it?   BounceGiggle

Ate it too-with fava beans-shshshshs!
No,buddy-the whole joint smelt of death. Speaking of-

Small | Large


I know it has nothing to do with anything-but I love that movie!
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