Stories of
Read the stories
These stories are about my haphazard journey to find a job I like. Although they are meant to be funny, I’ve been told they are mean. The stories begin where it all ended – at the final mind-numbing job that broke me. I was thirty years old.
The beginning and the End
I wondered if staying in my job was a masochistic tendency or a symptom of low intelligence. Stagnant and suffering decision paralysis, I decided my job was like one of those emotionally damaging relationship where the sex is excellent and, although I knew it was a bad relationship, I kept going back to it against my own better judgement.
Fourteen Cents
My parents were my first employers. They were cruel, despotic, tyrannical and manipulative capitalists. In a large hangar-like shed with tractors, tools, dust and wooden bins of freshly picked apples, I took flat sheets of cardboard and shaped and glued them into boxes.
Flyers for Jaffas
The day we trudged up and down the university streets, spreading the news of This Week’s Specials, was hot and still and the sun was burning my skin. Mum walked along one side of the street while Sam and I walked the other, occasionally detouring to cul-de-sacs to stuff flyers in letterboxes.