Day Ninety-four - Heaven knows I'm miserable now

For the life of me, I cant really recall where exactly on the timeline of events these next two stories fall into. I mean, most of the time I do get that feeling that they happened after I came back from London, but other times I get the feeling that they happened before. And just as plausible, one - either one, really - could have happened before and the other after. Who cares? 'It's not the destination, it's the journey', like Ralph Waldo Emerson so brilliantly put it. Whatever the case, these truly were the two worst jobs I ever had.

Let's begin by the one where I lasted half a day : these would have been the times where I still didn't have the Internet or even a computer, for that matter, so looking for a job was mostly trawling through the newspaper classifieds and see what was on offer. I'd buy the paper maybe every other day or so, and then when I saw something that made me go 'screw it, why not?', I'd call them to see if I could get an interview. I went to a few around that time - some for security gigs, but it never panned out. I then remembered that, even though not officially and I didn't have a licence for it, I did learn how to operate a forklift. So in one of my intrerviews, precisely for a warehouse that was looking for a forklift driver, I used that to leverage my way in. The interview went great and they wanted me to start like the beginning of the week that was coming next, and I said sure. The pay wasn't great, but it was enough. Soe my first day there, I get there expecting to be shown around and to start putting stuff into trucks or whatever. Then they told me that they'd had a slight change of plan - I guess they might've been lying through their teeth, but they told me that apparently that vacancy had already been offered to some other guy. But they did have a job for me on the factory floor, if I wanted to. I said sure, though not without some internal protest... I was already feeling ill at ease there. I was then taken to where the conveyor belts were, and there were two other people working there - a much older man and a much older woman - and they tried to explain to me what I had to do while they manned the conveyor belts. I really didn't get it, and soon I was being told off. They explained again, and I still didn't get it. Anyway, I winged it, and by the time I thought I'd been there working my ass off for hours, it was still barely 11 A.M.

I felt like crying when I saw the time. When the lunch break came, I told the people there that I'd not brought anything to eat, and I was going to get a bite to eat from one of the nearby restaurants. I made my way out of there, never to return. As I was making my way home, I rang the head guy and told him sayonara. That was one dead-end job I really didn't want.