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@achewood "Supporting" bacon is easy. Who's going to get on the mayonnaise bandwagon with me?

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Author Topic: Quitting your job...  (Read 1197 times)

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side_show

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Quitting your job...
« on: August 20, 2004, 07:11:49 pm »

Quote from: "Bozack"
Cleaning up RAW FECAL MATTER with a spray-bottle of disinfectant and a load of paper towels. Thank God we had those throw-away latex gloves. I gave my notice that same day, right after shooting one of the gloves at my boss.


I think the topic of quitting your job, and story's there of, deserve their own thread of sharing, and enjoyment.

I have had many, many, many jobs to pay the bills and fund my art, and hence have enjoyed quitting jobs.  The sweetest plum was when I quit wal-mart.

I quit during the whole "back to school" rush, and on my last day, I was on my way to the bathroom, in my little blue "you are free to fuck with me" vest, when an old lady slammed into me with a shopping cart so hard that I fell to the ground.  I looked up at her in disbelief, and pain.  She swerved around me saying in an annoyed voice "You should watch where you're going!" I sat there on the floor for a moment, and my friend and coworker was near by smirking at me, and I told him, as I rose from the floor: "You know in the two years of working here, I've never once been hit by a cart until now, on my last day.  I'm going to go get a stack of magazines from the check out and read them in the air conditioner isle."  And that's what I did.  A manager, the only decent manager in the whole place, came by as I was reading "Us" and asked me what I was doing, why I wasn't "zoning" - which is Wal-mart speak for cleaning up, and making sure things are right to the edge of the shelf for easy access.  "It's my last day," is all I said.  He nodded and walked away, glancing back at me with a mixture of envy and respect.
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Carlos del Vaca

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Quitting your job...
« Reply #1 on: August 20, 2004, 07:14:58 pm »

One summer in college, a friend did one of those student-house-painter things, and I worked for him for about a month.  It's the only job I've ever had that I truly sucked at.  I'm not a good painter.

The last straw was the day I climbed down into a window well to paint a basement window and stepped on a hornet's nest.

That night, I said "Dude, I'm not enjoying this, I suck at it, and today I got stung by hornets.  I think we'd both be better off if I didn't work for you."  He said "Thank you."  (Translation:  Man, I didn't want to have to fire a friend, but I was thinking about it.)
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My friends call me the Mayor.
My enemies don't call me anything.  'Cuz they're all dead.
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