I Once Had a Job Where...

“I Hope Your Okay for the Rest of Your Life”

“I once had a job where I got this note from a student - ‘Thank you for always being kind to me very few teachers have been, and it’s been a pleasure being in your class and having you as a teacher. I leave to go to prison tomorrow and I probably won’t see you for a very long time. So I hope your okay for the rest of your life because you do things for me and other kids that very few people do. Thank you for the feast and for the fry bread. Your friend, Jake.’”

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A NSFW 3 year old

“I once had a job where I was a speech pathologist to pre-schoolers. One, um, particularly colorful child took to enthusiastically dancing on my table like a miniature John Travolta. And while he had many speech issues we were working on he could very clearly and articulately pronounce one phrase that often accompanied his dance moves…”OH YEAH, MOTHERF@#*ER!”

Kids are Recording Devices…

“I once had a job where I was a bagger and then in the first few months I became a cashier - yeah, I moved up in the Jewel-Osco world, I was a made man. 

In my time at the store we had a change of store managers: at first had this dude who sounded like Isaac Hayes but with a lisp … if Isaac was from North Carolina. This has little to do with the story, but I had to share.

Anyway: One time, during the winter holiday season, a little boy, no older than 8 years old, came in with two ladies along with a number of other little kids about the same age. They were doing some serious shopping, of course - I mean some of their stuff was falling off the cart! So they checked out through a register next to me. The whole time the boy kept getting into some kind of trouble, and one of the ladies would stop him. Eventually he quieted down - as quite as any 7-8yr old can get. And as they start walking out the boy is walking behind everyone, intensely looking at the bags on his cart. Just before they exit the boy suddenly shouts, with excitement, “WOW! Look at all this S#%T!!

Not to sound crazy or nothing, but hearing what I was thinking being repeated by this little boy in his tiny voice really freaked me out in some awesome fashion - but that’s neither here nor there. The point is: little kids will repeat what you say at the weirdest-random times … it might be in public at a grocery store around Christmas.”

Children Will Find a Way

“I once had a job where I worked as a supervisor/tour-guide/activity leader/teacher to up to 40 foreign kids at any one time, between the ages of 8-14. I was 18, monolingual and totally inexperienced. These kids would come over to the UK from continental Europe, Asia, Russia, the levels of English would vary wildly from kid to kid - most of them spoke next to none.

I basically had to chaperone them around, find stuff for them to do and ONLY speak English to them, so they learnt. It was difficult, stressful, time-consuming, emotional and NOISY. But the amazing thing is, after their stay was up (between 3-5 weeks), most of them were speaking basic English. Broken and informal English, but conversational English - I could understand them, man. By far the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.

Moral of the story: NEVER underestimate the astonishing learning-power of a child’s mind.”

More Than a Thousand Words

“I once had a job where I delivered medical equipment in and around Chicago. My job often took me to the South and West sides, where I’d never really spent much time, and into people’s homes that I would normally never come across. A good amount of older African American folks, on the South side especially, often had a front wall in their living room where they had pictures of loved ones, relatives that served in the military, old family gatherings…and President Obama. Say what you want about his presidency (and folks are saying plenty) but it has a whole other level of meaning to these individuals.

Trying to Break Bad

“I used to work at an Arab restaurant and hookah lounge in a self-proclaimed hippy-friendly town. One day a well-dressed couple and their college-aged daughter sat down for lunch. They looked at the menu silently for a couple minutes, then the man followed me toward the kitchen and asked about how to order a hookah. “Well, you choose which flavor of tobacco you’d like and we prepare the pipe for you,” I explained. He laughed with a wink and said, “Right, TOBACCO. No, really, how much pot do they give you?” I tried to explain that we did not sell illegal drugs, but he did not believe me and asked who else he needed to talk to about buying it. Desperate to make him see the truth, I finally showed him all the labels on our pipe tobacco and convinced him that we only offered tobacco products. He returned to his family deflated. They did not stay for lunch.”

5 Second Rule?

“I once had a job with a famous chef in New orleans. The first time I met the chef was while HR was giving us the new employee tour. We all walked into the courtyard behind the restaurant to find the chef peeing off behind the cooler. As soon as he zipped up all the newbies rushed over to shake this famous man’s hand. When my turn came, the chef extended his hand. I tucked my hands behind my back and said, ‘it’s nice to meet you, but I know where your hands have been.’”

Submitted by Anonymous

I Changed My Name for You

“So, all my life I’ve been Candy, in my family, in school, and in several jobs.  Then I was hired by the nicest motel in Eugene, Oregon, the Valley River Inn.  I was going to be the Night Auditor on the Front Desk, working from 10pm to 7am checking in last arrivals, closing the books at midnight, checking out the early risers.

It was my first job wearing a uniform and I was to have a formal nametag for all to read.  Those working in hotels have great stories to tell, and in Eugene, the best stories come from the logger’s convention.  Big men, chainsaws, big trucks, beer, you know, the Oregon usual kind of thing.  When asked what name I wanted to have on the tag, it occurred to me that going by “Candy” could really be asking for some uncomfortable conversations late at night with people who had spent too much time already in the bar.

Make it “Candace” I said for the first time in my life, and hence I changed my name.  All my new co-workers knew me as Candace, all my paperwork said Candace, and I called myself Candace when answering the phone, etc.

Occasionally a swaggering guy would ask “does anyone call you Candy” and I would say “No, only my father.”   That pretty much ended the conversation.

And no, I don’t answer to Candy from anyone, anymore.”

End of the Week Stories

It’s the end of the week. Something great must have happened. Share it here. Decompress by telling a story. 

Throw Up Water

“I work with toddlers and yesterday one of them got sick and threw up all over the floor. I helped him clean himself up and tried to teach him to swish-and-spit into the sink. He swished…then pretty much did a spit take all over my face. Throw up water is even less appetizing than it sounds.”