Mine is a pretty tame example: I never minded the smell of garlic was fine around it… but I took a job for DHL and they had these large tubs of garlic for horses that had to go out to people. There were about 10 of them coming down the belt.
Now I can’t stand it. I’m just reminded of how strong that smell was I was actually gagging. The tubs were heavy, the handles were feedble. Some of the tubs were damaged so I got a bit on me.
I stunk of it for the rest of the shift. It wasn’t even a normal garlic smell it was just so powerful and nauseating.
Christmas carols. Being forced to come back to a retail job over the Christmas rush a little over a week after my brother was found dead on the floor outside my bedroom :)
The boss there had a very personal bone to pick with me, made it clear she didn’t even have to give me any bereavement leave since I was part time, and when a customer went on a Mach 4 tirade because I wasn’t smiling hard enough (not kidding), she backed them up and threatened to fire me in front of everyone.
12hrs+ of this every day. I preferred working by myself in back because people would leave me the fuck alone to do my job, but it turns out it was also useful for intermittent off-camera crying!
To this day, 13 years later, I can still tell you the exact playlist that was on the radio. That was when The Fray’s How to Save a Life was still big and I used to really like that song, but I can avoid it now a lot easier than I can avoid “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
It got me forcibly stopped by the police once, when I couldn’t take it anymore, ran out of the store, and the owner assumed I stole something. I really just don’t leave the house after October.
Fuck! that’s rough.
May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your ex-boss’s armpits.
And this is legal where you live?
Yes? Although I should back up and say that for retail, those are holiday hours. My normal hours were like…16 per week, tops, and that’s all that was available in the area. Because as long as my total hours per week are kept just barely under 40, I don’t get to have healthcare!
…So we just played russian roulette with the bills and I had to quit when the stress combined with simply not eating began to impact my health at work. Being unemployed did not improve the situation.
I don’t know if you’re aware that full-time often goes to 60-80hrs+ per week, but that works out to about the same. I’ve only very recently persuaded a roommate to stop pulling all-nighters on a salary. They were literally going all last week surviving on naps, but eventually admitted that they almost never actually hit the cash bonuses they were
aiming forhaving dangled in front of them anyway. So hopefully I can keep them to that.These are extremely common tactics, as is any job from a temp service having an employment policy that resembles a revolving door, wherein no matter how hard you go, they are going to fire you just shy of a month or two, after which they would have legally had to hire you and give you super gross things like benefits.
By the time the French revolted, their peasants were eating grass to survive. Most of us are still at least eating food for humans. We’re probably going to ride this to collapse.
My last job before my current one, I would routinely work 20 hour shifts, with 4 hours off, followed by a 20 hour shift. Normally would do that 4 days, followed by 4-5 normal 12 hour shifts with a 12 hour turn around.
Security jobs can really suck.
As a side note I worked in a doctors office and how to save a life was on the radio station they had on. Every hour . On the hour. For days, weeks, months. It drove me insane. It’s such a shit song.
Finally I switched the radio station to classic rock for one day. It was amazing. The next day they had switched it to the local country station. Which was playing lone stars mr mom. Please go listen to it. Now imagine listening to that every hour on the hour for days, weeks, months.
I can still recite both songs by heart.
“It’s only Monday, Mr. Mom”? Yeah, that was probably back when I was in middle school. It was a super popular song on our preferred station in the morning. Have not heard it since. Still remember half the chorus.
I would like to point out that forcing prisoners to listen to a single song over and over for hours is a form of torture used by the CIA. And also commiserate, because that same boss forbade anyone touching the radio whether she was there or not on pain of termination. She really, really liked country.
For a breather (this was before I worked there), she brought in her very own CD to play over the holidays instead of relying on the stations, I guess because they possibly didn’t have an xmas lineup? This was acceptable on paper, but then she left for the day, the tape got stuck on The Little Drummer Boy, and nobody was allowed to touch it.
The coworker telling me this attested to having listened to The Little Drummer Boy 27 times in a row, on the edge of derangement. This is ok to do to a person, because they are a US retail worker and not a terrorist.