Posting Up

I once worked for a couple summers building decks
and cedar fences. We worked outside the Toronto metro area and as you can
imagine the summers are somewhat short, which led to long days as my
boss wanted to get as much work done as he could between the ground
thawing and freezing. All fine and good.

But the bad part was when he would take shortcuts so he could quickly
finish and go onto the next job. For example, we would put a lot of
gravel down a post hole before adding cement if the ground was wet and
we needed the drainage. But he started omitting the gravel to save
money. This compromised the life of a deck for sure. The worst one was
when he started putting cedar posts into the ground for fences and not
even cementing them in. He took money to do an entire new subdivision
and never finished. Just took the money, started it and fled. This was
on an episode of Holmes on Holmes where they actually had to fix the
job. Terrible boss.

Pierced Nip

I am a 20 year old woman. I have no tattoos but I do have my tongue
pierced. My boss is a 45 year old balding man with a lot of tattoos.

One day we were talking and got onto the subject of tattoos and
piercings. I told him that a tongue piercing doesn’t hurt as much a you
would think. He told me he has his nipple peirced.
Lovely. So nice of you to share that with me. I always wondered if you
had any body piercing.

Isn’t nipple peircing more of a woman’s thing?
Why he felt the need to tell me that I have no idea, but I hope
nothing like it ever happens again.

Taking Out The Trash

I get really upset whenever I think of this memory. I worked at a
convenience store and the register was always short at the end of my
shift, according to my supervisor. Pretty soon, the safe started
coming up short as well. I knew it wasn’t me, so I started documenting
how much was in the safe and the register at the beginning and end of
every shift. I realized that the discrepencies weren’t mine. Someone
else was fucking with the money. So I set up a small webcam in the
supervisor’s office and got video proof that he was skimming a little
off the top and framing me for it. I showed the proof to the regional
manager and got the supervisor fired. He’s lucky they didn’t press
charges. The day he was fired he showed up at my doorstep at 3 am
drunk and biligerant. I told him to go home and leave me alone. Then I
started getting phone calls from a blocked number, and the caller
would whisper something then hang up. I was sure it was him. After a
few weeks, I changed my number and the calls stopped. Then I got a few
threatening notes in my mailbox and I told the police. They didn’t
take it seriously until one day when I was at work, I heard a car peel
out of the parking lot and I checked to make sure someone didn’t gas
and dash. None of the pumps showed unpaid sales, so I looked out the
window and saw his car speeding away. There was a garbage bag in front
of the door. I checked to see what sort of a gift he’d left for me,
and it was my dog. The son of a bitch killed my god damn dog and left
it for me in a garbage bag outside the front door. I hope that fucker
gets rectal cancer from too much assrape in prison.

Eating Sh*t

About 15 years ago I worked as a farm hand for a dairy farmer. He only
had a few of us helping him out, he did a lot of the work himself. One
spring day my job came to a very abrupt end during milking. The cows
would be herded into these raised stalls. We walked around on a lower
level so their udders were at about shoulder level. We’d hook them up
to the automatic milkers, turn on the machine, unhook them, then herd
them back out. One problem with walking around the cows on the raised
platforms is that you tend to get shit on fairly often. It won’t
happen if you are paying attention because you don’t spend a lot of
time at their business end, but because the mind tends to wander when
you don’t have a particularly dangerous or intellectually stimulating
task at hand, you will get shit on. So one afternoon we start with the
milking and the rancher is telling me about something, standing right
in the money spot, and the cow lets her bowels loose. He starts
spitting and cursing up a storm and the first words I actually
recognize coming out of his mouth are, “THAT’S MOTHERFUCKING IT! THESE
FUCKING COWS HAVE SHIT IN MY MOUTH ONE TOO MANY TIMES! I’M
MOTHERFUCKING DONE WITH COWSHIT IN MY MOUTH!” It’s pretty much what
any of us say any time it happened to us. Unfortunately for me, he
kept his promise. He took his entire stock to auction that Saturday.
He honest to God quit his farm, sold everything off, and went back to
school the next fall to get his J.D.