Monday, October 28, 2013

Another day another job

    Yes oh yes... yet another job has gone and passed me by. Since the last time I talked to you, I had been laid off from that awful job in which I starred at blank gray walls and talked about paper dimensions all day long, thank God. I was on unemployment for five or six months just trying to find SOMETHING... ANYTHING worth my time. And then it happened.

    I stumbled upon an posting on Craig's List vaguely describing some kind of job in which I would be managing people and that no previous managerial experience was necessary. Sounded great to me. I said to myself "self, this could be a chance to actually start a career, save some money, and actually start a life." And the way the interview went and everything that went along with it, it sure sounded like it.

  Did I mention I hate misleading people? Well... I got hired on the spot, which should have raised a red flag, as a manager in training. Company policy stated I would be training on the procedures and proper ways of doing things before I got my own place for 4-6 months. In all actuality, it was a week and a half. I was thrown to the sharks not knowing how to do ANYTHING.

   The job required me to do a lot of things. A lot of manual labor things such as stripping and waxing floors, buffing floors, and basically being a janitor in some old folks homes. All of these things would be fine if it were not for a few factors.

1) I have no previous experience in any of those things- Now come on Greg. Being a janitor is not rocket science. And this was not hard. I basically bleached everything in sight. But I had never ever waxed a floor. They showed me once then sent me on my way. Fuck that.

2) The travel- In my short period of time working with this company I was sent to almost ten different old folks homes anywhere from Latrobe to Munhall. Thats literally a 50 mile radius. I was not given compensation for mileage. Fuck that.

3)The hours- I was told from the beginning I would be working some nights. It just made sense being that there are some places that cant be taken care of during the day. My third week on the job I was sent out after working 9 hours to a home to wax a dining room. The equipment they gave me did not work and I had to do EVERYTHING by hand. A two hour job turned into a six hour job, turning my 9-11 hour day into a 15 hour day. Worst day ever. I was working with a few other managers at the time whom were doing another room. They told me to get used to this. The one guy had not had a day off in three months. Fuck that. I need a life.

4) The pay- Yes, I know I said the pay was nice before. 32k salary is awesome... if you don't work 55-60 hours a week. My girlfriend and I figured it out. If I worked an average of 50 hours a week and traveled like I was at the time, I would be making anywhere from $8 an hour or sometimes less than minimum wage. Fuck that.

5) The uniform- Or lack there of. A job where I am literally scrubbing shit off the floor should require someone to wear nursing scrubs or something like that. Hell, even khakis and a polo would be nice. But you would not even believe what I had to wear to this job. Keep in mind, I am essentially a glorified janitor. I do everything a janitor does and then some. This is seriously how I had to dress everyday.

Don't mind the whiskey in my hand, even though that would have made the job MUCH better. This is a picture of me 40 pounds ago and at a wedding, but this is basically what I had to wear to work everyday. I chose to wear suspenders because it was easier to keep my pants up after rolling around on the ground, which I regularly did... in these clothes. I also sometimes wore a tie clip so it didn't drop in the toxic chemicals I had to scrub toxic waste and turds up with... in these clothes. I also often rolled my sleeves up because it was easier getting gloves on and off with, you know, being that I HAD TO CLEAN UP SHIT.... IN THESE FUCKING CLOTHES. Oh, I also did not wear dress shoes. I wore black boots because I was slapping toxic chemicals on floors to eat away the wax. I would also roll up my pants on a regular basis because I didn't want to ruin them. Floor stripper is just like bleach. One little splash and they are ruined. So I mean, doing all of those things... IN THESE CLOTHES... made complete sense. Fuck that. 

After taking a long hard look at how outrageously twisted this job was, I couldn't take it any longer. At this point in my life, with the debt I have, and seeing everyone in the same situation, I made a conscious decision. Money is not everything. Yes I need money, but why work jobs I am going to loathe for a couple more dollars per hour? So I started looking again. 

   I got an interview days alter after making this decision. If I got the job, I would be making less money, per 40 hours, if I would have stayed at that job. But every time I walked into this place everyone was literally happy. Everyone I talked to actually enjoyed their job. I have never experienced that. That is what I need at this point in my life. I slammed the interview and I start there in a few days and I am really looking forward to it. 

But this is what I would like to say to my former employer. Fuck you for being so misleading. I hated every single second I worked for you. Nothing was enjoyable about anything you did be it waking up at 5am everyday to traveling to fucking Muhall on a regular basis. Screw you and I hope you make the next gullible man or woman happy in their glorified janitor position. Here is a suggestion, why not dress them up in purple furs and call them king or queen. You know, they have to clean toilets anyways. Get it? Throne? I mean seriously people, the administrators of  every single fucking building were not even dressed as nice as I was. Not even exaggerating. At any given time and in any given building, I was the nicest dressed person. And there were hundreds of people in the building more important than I was. It made no sense whatsoever. Fuck that. Hopefully this makes me a happier person in the long run.

Hey... you live and you learn. Am I right?