I used to push gherkins in a gherkin factory.

I’ve had some weird jobs in my time! No idea why I started thinking about this yesterday, normally this topic is reserved for drunken story-telling. Everyone has weird job stories to tell after a few voddies. I need to come clean and share some of mine. This may come as a surprise but I didn’t start out as the uber-glamorous PR type I am today.

McDonalds Gherkin Factory.

You may not know this but all McDonalds gherkin’s used to come from my home-town, Griffith. I had a job there one summer where I stood at the end of this massive pit filled with dirty gherkins. I had a 6 foot pole and with that pole I had to push the gherkins down a shoot and into the factory. As the pit emptied the next truck would pull in and unload. It was dirty gherkins for days. And the stink! Awful. Gherkins in brine is truly revolting. I was practically paid as slave labour. I still can not bare to eat a McDonalds gherkin, I’ve seen what goes in that pit!

...revolting...

Brick Stacker.

This was hard, heavy work. While wearing thick leather gloves I had to stack the bricks after they’d come out of the kiln on to the pallets. Can you imagine anything more mind-numbing or exhausting? I learnt the stacking technique from an old-timer who I’d bludge a sneaky Horizon off at afternoon tea. No one spoke to anyone. And it was winter and freezing. I shudder still thinking about it. It was during that winter of brick-stacking that I resolutely decided I was not built for manual labour.

They looked EXACTLY like this, haunted!

Safety Bus Driver.

Who the hell gave me the keys to the safety bus? Now that’s just negligent! I had a licence to drive a 32 seater cause I was a Residential Tutor and to earn extra money I’d drive the safetly bus. The worst night to be rostered on would be a Thursday which was bar night. You’d end up with a bus full of pissed idiots singing Zombie at the top their lungs. What made it more infuriating was that the Thursday nights I wasn’t rostered on I’d be the one leading the pissed-idiot singing.

Country Music Festival.

Now this is one of the best fortnights of my professional life. The Divine Ms M got me a job as a journo at the “Foster’s Australasian Country Music Festival” – I remember that cause I had to say it at the start and the end of each voice report that I’d send through to metro radio stations. Why this job was weird was because I knew absolutely nothing about country music. Took a mad crash course over that fortnight so by the time we got to the big finale – the Golden Guitars – I was besties with all the big stars. I still so clearly remember doing a story on learning how to line-dance. I reckon I could still bust out those moves if the tune was right.

Tamworth Rocks, my mate Lee

Cocktail Waitress.

I had a one-night-only gig serving cocktails at a Mens Only event at the Botanical Gardens. Hold up, that story can’t be told here.

Pool Cleaner.

Let go of all those stereotypical ‘pool boy’ fantasies. It was an indoor pool and they had me in to clean it when it was shut. The irony of me having any sort of cleaning job is not lost on me. I’m a filthy bitch. The only reason I took the job was cause it was a stepping stone to earning a highly-prized lifeguard position. The best part about the job was that they would leave the pool kiosk open while I’d be cleaning and I used to gorge myself on Freckles and Red Frogs. I stunk of bleach all that summer.

I could go on for days on this topic. In fact there is a whole post on my days as a Bank Teller! Now that was a very special two years. Weird they let near the money of the safe, but ahhh, such good times at the State Bank Griffith. Will post that one soon.

Over and out, 10-4 Big Daddy, keep on truckin’!