Because my back aches
Nov. 19th, 2007 12:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebitterguyAnd I just talked to a branch from Tilsonburg.
There was a guy I went to school with (Jason? Mike? One of those two particularly rare WAS names) who would do the summer tabacco harvest. I managed to avoid the common rural jobs. I worked delivering Sears catalogues (Ah, spring 1985. Thou art my eternal nemesis).
Thankfully, I got sprung from that job (3.5 cents a catalogue) to the union world of grocery store employeeism. Ahh, the A&P. Although I did suffer a massive head injry my second day on the job, I stuck through it for most of high school, through summer highs and winter lows.
The reason that a grocery store employee would have to suffer through two of Canada's four, individual seasons (at least, back then) was that I was assigned to Parcel Pickup duty. What that meant was that customers would pack their groceries in the store, which would then be put into little numbered plastic bins. The bins would be sent out on rollers (and up a conveyor belt) to the parcel pickup section, which was outside.
So, customer would come in, PP employee (ie YHB) would scurry to find them in the PP room, and get them out to the car. God forbit someone dropped a bag with fragiles in it.
The worst was when a customer got the wrong box of goods. They'd get pooched, and the customer who was supposed to get that box got pooched. Good times!
There was also the benefit of being right next to a cow farm. High summer, there's nothing like the scent of cow dung wafting through the parking lot. Yum! Then there was the amusing time a cow wandered into the parking lot. Is there anyway to page the store manager that there's a cow in the parking lot that won't sound like you're having a drug episode?
Still, better working next to a farm than doing actual farm work. I had friends who'd end up haying and stuff.
One summer in university I got to do landscaping, which is a fascinating way to learn how much dirt you can get into your pockets (answer: A lot) and how many nails you can get into your feel while removing old roof tiles (ditto).
But on the momentary lapses between cars, especially in the summer, it could be nice. We'd get ice from the del and put it in containers, and as they melted that would be delightful ice water.
Then we'd make fun of John, who had sex with a cow once. Ah, well. It was a small town.
There was a guy I went to school with (Jason? Mike? One of those two particularly rare WAS names) who would do the summer tabacco harvest. I managed to avoid the common rural jobs. I worked delivering Sears catalogues (Ah, spring 1985. Thou art my eternal nemesis).
Thankfully, I got sprung from that job (3.5 cents a catalogue) to the union world of grocery store employeeism. Ahh, the A&P. Although I did suffer a massive head injry my second day on the job, I stuck through it for most of high school, through summer highs and winter lows.
The reason that a grocery store employee would have to suffer through two of Canada's four, individual seasons (at least, back then) was that I was assigned to Parcel Pickup duty. What that meant was that customers would pack their groceries in the store, which would then be put into little numbered plastic bins. The bins would be sent out on rollers (and up a conveyor belt) to the parcel pickup section, which was outside.
So, customer would come in, PP employee (ie YHB) would scurry to find them in the PP room, and get them out to the car. God forbit someone dropped a bag with fragiles in it.
The worst was when a customer got the wrong box of goods. They'd get pooched, and the customer who was supposed to get that box got pooched. Good times!
There was also the benefit of being right next to a cow farm. High summer, there's nothing like the scent of cow dung wafting through the parking lot. Yum! Then there was the amusing time a cow wandered into the parking lot. Is there anyway to page the store manager that there's a cow in the parking lot that won't sound like you're having a drug episode?
Still, better working next to a farm than doing actual farm work. I had friends who'd end up haying and stuff.
One summer in university I got to do landscaping, which is a fascinating way to learn how much dirt you can get into your pockets (answer: A lot) and how many nails you can get into your feel while removing old roof tiles (ditto).
But on the momentary lapses between cars, especially in the summer, it could be nice. We'd get ice from the del and put it in containers, and as they melted that would be delightful ice water.
Then we'd make fun of John, who had sex with a cow once. Ah, well. It was a small town.
