Wednesday, November 7, 2007


So I was thinking about the worst job I've ever had, and you know what?

Cannot narrow it down to only one.

Nope, the honor of Worst. Job. Ever! is a twin.

That's right.

2 Worst. Jobs. Ever!

The first one was my first job. 16 years old, FORCED by my parents to spend my summer working at


That's right. Southern Baptist Camp.

Now lest you think it was one of those idyllic woodsy with streams yada yada camps, let me make this perfectly clear.

Camp was in the barren windswept plains of North Texas.

Primary vegetation?

Why, scrub brush, of course.

Us girl workers got paid $17.00 a week. The BOYS got paid, for doing the EXACT SAME WORK, $27.00 a week.

So here were our duties.

Wake up was at the obscene hour of 4 A.M. 4 AfuckingM. After woofing down breakfast, we had to get the dining hall ready for the hundreds of campers. Wipe down tables, sweep the floors, mop the floors, then on to the bathrooms for the disgusting job of scrubbing toilets, sinks & showers. Then back to the dining room (after washing our hands, of course) to begin serving breakfast to the campers. As soon as the last one finished eating, it was clean up time. Gather up MOUNTAINS of dirty dishes, utensils, pots and pans and wash them by hand. By the time we finished, it was time to begin preparing the dining hall for the lunch crowd. Repeat. By the time we finished that, it was on to the dorms & cabins to clean those bastards. Then back to the dining hall to repeat for supper. Finally, the day was done.

Well, not quite.

After the supper dishes were all done and the floors swept & mopped (again), then we had Flashlight Gestapo duty.

If there are ANY ex-Baptist campers reading this, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. For you non ex-Baptist campers, let me spell it out for you.

The Baptist adults were absolutely obsessed with the idea that 2 campers, be they boy and girl, boy and boy, or girl and girl, might sneak off after dark to "explore," shall we say.

So we workers were drafted into the Flashlight Gestapo.

Our weapon?

A flashlight, of course.

But not just ANY old flashlight.

No, sir, we were issued POLICE flashlights. You know the kind, BIG, HEAVY and putting out like 10 million candle power.

That's not all.

We actually had a "TRAINING CLASS" in the proper usage of our flashlights.

We were taught (required) to hold the POLICE flashlight UP on our shoulder (left or right, didn't matter which) and scan the bushes for amorous campers.


Oh, and amidst all of this, from sunrise until EVERY SINGLE CAMPER was in their dorm or cabin and ACCOUNTED FOR TWICE at night, we were treated to piped in preaching & singing.

That's right. Loudspeakers were EVERYWHERE.

Jim Jones did not invent Jonestown.

Baptist church camp invented it.

So Hubby and I were discussing church camp one day.


Hubby: "LOVED IT!"

Me: "What? Are you insane?"

Hubby: "Where do you think I lost my cherry?"

Me: "Nuh uh!! Church camp??"

Hubby: "Damn straight."


Hubby: "I was stealthy, too. The Flashlight Gestapo didn't catch me & whatshername."

Me: "What was her name?"

Hubby: "No idea, I never asked."


OK, so OTHER Worst Job

Yep, I worked for Orkin once.

No, not in the office typing orders & shit.

Nope. I was a "pest control technician."

Did you guys know that there are some really nasty dirty people out there in the world?

There are.


You would not believe how they live.

So we'd get to the office in the mornings and get handed a list of people who wanted an estimate for their "pest problem."

Off we'd go.

Into (I'm pretty sure) one of Dante's rings.

Roaches. Roaches were the biggie.

The ABSOLUTE worst house I EVER saw I told the owners that when I sprayed it, they would HAVE to stay gone for at least 3 DAYS, because the dead roaches were gonna pile up, wall to wall, at least 2 ft deep in their house. And I wasn't lying, either.


So my friend Paula (a co-workers AND friend) and I came back the next day to spray. We used Malathion AND Diazinon.

So as soon as we started spraying the baseboards, THOUSANDS of roaches started climbing the walls making a beeline for the ceiling. The walls were literally shimmering with roaches. That's what roaches did. They'd get about half way across the ceiling when their nervous system would go "Fuck this shit" and they'd die.

Which meant they would tumble down ONTO you. Cause you were still spraying the next baseboard in the room. It took too much time to try to knock the dead roaches outta your hair, so you'd just vigorously shake your head. Roaches would fly.

Amidst all this, THE GROSSEST thing I EVER saw was when I saw those little fuckers crawling out of the STEAM HOLES in the iron. I SWEAR!! The fucking STEAM HOLES IN THE IRON.

By the time Paula and I were finished spraying that fucking pigsty nightmare house, there was already a good 5 INCHES of dead roaches covering every single floor, wall-to-wall, in that house.

I quit when I got back to the office.


So, what was your Worst. Job. Ever.?

You can have more than one.

I certainly did.


© 2007 HillCountryGal

Note: "Missing You" - John Waite

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