Struggling

Part III

I got a prep cook job in 1995 right around the time I got saved? and worked there except a few slow periods for over 2.5 years. It was pure misery as I worked with ex cons and others who cussed and drank and bragged about wife beating, etc…I worked for a man who hated me and seemed obsessed with me. Turns out I might have seen him growing up but never met him–his family’s home was 2 blocks away from my grandparent’s house when I was young. He mistreated me and ridiculed me even when he no longer was my boss and he worked in another department in the kitchen. He weighed 400 pounds. He’d make me work through lunch when everyone else was gone.  He would “find” me in his car and want to take me home.  I got out fast when I got there.

My worst enemy from cooking school magically appeared as a new employee. She managed to brown nose the boss and took hours away from me. She would also try and start “fights” with me so she would end up crying (a trick she did in class that almost ended my schooling). She even tried to pry me about my past in the hospital by telling me her story of being in the same hospital a few years later.  I said nothing.  I knew then she was getting her info from somewhere.

She was instrumental in getting me fired.  I saw her shaking the hand of a strange older white woman the day I got fired. (I was forced to quit probably to avoid any lawsuits)  The whole thing had been fixed.  The reason I was fired is that I got into it with an aggro temp from a day service who had it in for me.

After I left almost 3 years of lettuce chopping, meat cutting, and fruit cutting etc…I began to struggle which ended up with me eventually becoming homeless and getting on the dole.

I had temped a bit during that job including working in the BOOKSTORE of the college I had graduated during lulls, but hadn’t been truly unemployed for 3.5 years.  I went to a temp agency that specialized in food jobs and all they got me were dish-washing jobs and one banquet server job and one cashier job.  I also got to give out samples at a warehouse store.  Whoopee.  None of it paid the rent and I got kicked out of my apartment and had to move home to my father.  It was May and I had struggled to survive since the past October.

He was not happy to have me home but he used me to clean the house and cook for him.  I was so hurt and exhausted and bitter I did not work for a few months.  I did a one day stint in a dress shop doing inventory, that’s it.  I did inventory for Sears from an Agency years ago and was offered a job a min wage and no benes.  I did not take it.  This shop did not even need me back the next day.  I did not work until August when I trained to drive a school bus.

They put us through class training, driving training, CPR and everything else for weeks until we went to Motor Vehicles to pass a test and get our special bus license.  Before that we took a road test to pass that as well.  I lost that job in weeks.  A big fat ugly woman blew up at me in the driver’s lunchroom because I had accidentally taken her seat and I got fired.  I knew no one liked me because another driver “narked” on me when I hopped a curb and one of the drivers’ children who went to one of the schools on my route had started a fight hitting a girl half his size.  His mother showed up and screamed at me. They even made me take another urine test.  I knew it would not last.  The stress of getting up at 5:00 am and the job stress made me sick and it was a long time before I felt well.  My father had put me in this little miserable apartment and I hated it.  I moved home again.

There, I continued to look for work but found none and essentially got another month or two off before I went back to the world’s most famous Scottish Restaurant.  This time I was in Drive Thru and at least half of the customers acted like they had it out for me.  I did not know a lot of them were perps.  I hated the job and fell ill due to allergies from the store doing remodeling while I was there.  It took 2 months to get well.  They cut my hours and told me they didn’t like my work.  I asked over and over to be on the “grill” just to get away from customers but for some reason they refused.  I was on Grill the whole time at the other McD’s. It was either Drive Thru or Front Counter.  I gained weight drinking all the soda all day and felt bad overall.  One day the owner’s WIFE came thru the Drive Thru and treated me like hell (I had never met her) and I got fired.  Also some bitch got into it with me over a glass of water–a total skit.

I had moved out again during my McJob and now could not afford rent.  This time my father would not have me home as he had sold the house and he didn’t want me to stay over at his new condo.  I applied for a few jobs, got turned down, then applied for benefits.  I lived an extra month in my apt due to a charity donation then moved into a shelter.  I did not see my father for 2 months after that.  When he did see me he would complain of the 30 bucks a month it cost to leave my stuff in storage.

I was sent to a “clubhouse” for crazies from the mental health center where they tried to get everyone to work and tried to scam people out of their benefits.  I got my benefits when I was there and was threatened by one of the workers that I would LOSE my benefits if I didn’t participate in Job Service and Voc Rehab.  It was a lie but I did get a few jobs before I got rent assistance to help with bills.  Voc Rehab found me a job filing right on the premises for 6 months, I worked at Burger King a whole week, worked for a charity that provided meals for home bound sick people and then took my last job with a service for “disabled” people who wanted work.  It was the last “regular” job I ever had.

It was in a hospital right by my apartment so I could walk to work.  That was the only good part.  I could feel the hatred the first day.  Only one woman was nice to me and she was an Apostate Christian (prob another perp special) who hated Christ and complained about everything all the time.  It was filing again and there were tons of files.  Some were so high I had to climb on a stool to get them and others were at floor level so I had to sit on the stool or the floor to get to them.  I was sexually and racially harassed by a man there and no one did anything.  The only good part of the job was the cafeteria and the coffee cart.  A strange thing that happened was that I saw the name of the first doctor who put me on Stelazine worked there and was a winner of some kind of contest run by the cafeteria.  There was a teen psych ward and Eating Disorders hospital there then.  Poor kids, having her as a doc.  I was horrified she would find out I worked there.  Mercifully the job ended in 3 months.  That was 2001.

Aside from volunteer jobs and a very very part time gig I had a few years ago I’m sitting on the dole.  It’s 2013.  So much for the American Dream.

Advertisements

Temp Jobs of Shame Pt.1

Someone wanted to know about all my lovely experiences in the er, job market before I went on the dole.  I cannot post them all–but my temp follies were sort of funny.  I got into “temping” at the urging of a friend because I had been complaining of the food service jobs I had been getting.  He said I could work in an office (turns out not all the time I also did factory work, grrr) and not work night hours (most of the time, I had one evening job) and be able to plan what to do since we would not be at the mercy of a food service scheduler who would want us to work nights, weekends, etc…Right after I started “temping” my friendship with this person stopped as we broke up but that is another story for another time.

It started with the shoes.  I had found the worst job in the world:  prepping shoes for the sales floor. It had started as a temp job at a mall my mother had found. Once I got the “job” I left the mall and went to work in the “hood” which is where I live now, actually, and had to commute in my ancient car.  It would be a short bus ride now.

It had irregular hours, I was always “on call”, and all the job consisted of was opening cases of shoes, taking the paper and other debris off them, putting a huge ugly security tag thru them and putting price tags on.  It was the most depressing job.  I was alone in the back room.   Sometimes I’d do 100s of men’s shoes in a color called “puce” which is a vomit gray color.  After the shoes were processed all I did was put them on a cart and roll them onto the sales floor–then open more cases of shoes.  My friend got a temp office job and told me it was more dignified.

It was my entry into the temp world, where I would find most of my jobs the length of my work history.  He quit the job right before I got on so I didn’t work with him.

The first temp job was not so bad.  It was filing in a nice office environment with a bunch of other temps.  I was assigned there twice.  The second time around people seemed meaner to me.  I also might have met my first perp there.  I told the story on my old blog how I went to lunch with a work friend and this other “woman” who tore me to pieces when I got up to go to the bathroom.  Still it was not the worst job I got thru the temp services .

There was this particular job I got all the time…I’ll call it “the papers”.  I got sent to do this about half a dozen times or more despite my education, etc…  It consisted of taking documents, packets of documents and files of documents and taking staples etc out and separating them and sticking the individual documents on white paper with tape to be microfilmed.  It was a boring thankless job.  The first time I did the “papers” was probably in 1988 and the last time was in 1995 when I complained and was put into a cold garage to do something else idiotic with old files. I got sick.  I worked with a woman who sat there and said God D***t all day just to get to me because I was a new convert.  Perp, probably.  She’d come in in a dress and combat boots.

I worked at several temp places starting in 1986 and the last assignment I did was probably 1996.  After that I rang the bell for Aunt Sally and worked at Mickey D’s for the second time.  My work history is the stuff of nightmares.  From 1979 when I had a paper route until 2009 when I quit the only job I ever really liked, it was one thing after another.  I have the trashiest job history in the world.  I’ve even been fired from volunteer jobs.

Stay tuned for more.