You Can Take This Job and Shove It!!

Enough is enough when it's enough. Am I right? 

I turned around and bent over and told him to kiss where the sun don't shine; and to take the job and shove it up his bahookie; then I grabbed my raggedy jeans and left.

How crass, how uncouth, what a jerk I bet your thinking. But give me a chance to explain.

If you are like me, you have probably worked many different jobs before you settled on your chosen career.

That being said, I'm sure too you have probably left a place of employment because the job was terrible; and by left I mean you quit.

Now there are a variety of things that make jobs terrible; from overly demanding bosses to boring work, backstabbing co-workers to long hours. See you're shaking your head up and down because you know what I'm saying is true. I've had my share of terrible jobs for one reason or another.

When I was a sophomore in college my parents decided it was time for me to start being more responsible and I had to pay a portion of my college tuition fees. So I found a job.

"Dandy I thought I told you about wearing those jeans into to work," my boss scolded. (Yes, my name is Dandy but that's a story for another time.)

"Yeah, but come on Mr. Beckett this job isn't the cleanest of jobs ya know," I replied.

"Listen when our customers see you it's a reflection on us. You should be in good looking attire during your shift," he shook his finger in my face continuing to reprimand.

I was working part-time at a gas station/mechanic shop. The job was ok but it paid only a bit above minimum wage. Mr Beckett, a short, pot bellied, imbecile of a man, wore his hair in a comb-over to try and hide his bald spot, was rude and always screaming.

He even bullied Mr. Tyson who was his business partner. Mr. Tyson was a simple, laid back type of guy who always tried to avoid confrontation.

I usually wore an old, raggedy, pair of jeans because it wasn’t the cleanest of jobs. I helped people fuel up, put oil in their cars, changed tires etc. so I could get pretty dirty during a 10-hour shift.

"Come in the office. I'm writing you an occurrence," Mr. Beckett motioned me to follow him.

"Are you serious? Mr. T come on help me out here. I always wear old jeans to work and you've never said a word, never had the remotest problem with it," I implored.

Mr. Tyson looked from me to Mr. Beckett.

"Couldn't you just cut him some slack? He'll put on a pair of khakis or dickies for his next shift. Am I right Dandy?" Mr. Tyson tried to intervene

Mr Beckett starts mouthing off about the state of my jeans and that he had already warned me once.

I explained that when I was hired I wasn't told I had to wear anything specific resembling an uniform only to wear the green and yellow Beckett and Tyson branded t-shirt I was given on my first day of work. 

"Dandy jeans are not acceptable work attire especially the ones you are wearing. You look like bum and I don't want to see you in them again. Is that clear?" he said indignantly.

"Unless you're gonna provide me 'said acceptable' (I made finger quotations) attire, I'm not wearing and ruining any of my good pants for minimum wage," I retorted.

"For the last time jeans are not authorized leg-wear at this job!!" Beckett shouted.

So I took off my jeans right there and stood in my boxers.

Tyson started choking with laughter.

Beckett looked like he was about to bust an artery. I knew he was going to say 'you're fired' so I beat him to the punchline

I turned around and bent over and told him to kiss where the sun don't shine; and to take the job and shove it up his bahookie; then I grabbed my raggedy jeans and left.

Fast forward to the time I worked as a 7-11 cashier. What started out as helping my Aunt Colleen cover a last minute call-out for a graveyard shift, ended up me working two years and four months.

If you've ever worked graveyard then you understand when I say graveyard really messes with your life. For one you don't ever feel rested because you never get enough sleep, then unless you're super disciplined your diet suffers because you eat crap food. Forget about exercise because you're too tired to even think about working out. Lastly it seems you never can make time for people and the things you enjoy.

I was tired of graveyard and made my complaints known to Aunt Colleen numerous times. She hemmed and hawwed about how corporate had her on a short lease, how would it look to the other employees if I, her nephew, was given shift preference. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

I got tired of being passed over for a change of shift. After 6 months of requesting it and continually being denied, plus seeing multiple new hires get day and swing shifts, I was pissed off to no end. I was done.

Would I miss the nachos and slurpees? Of course, but, sometimes you had to put your foot down and leave it down.

So, one night, two hours into my shift; I grabbed a case of Yoohoo's, some Cool Ranch Dorritios, and two extra large Grape slurpees. I wrote a sarcastic note that said last time I checked I was not Dracula's son and how I deserve to see the sun too, taped it to the door, and shoved the keys through the overnight box after locking up.

Word of advice...be kind to your local convenience store cashier, because, while you're all snug under your covers sleep, they stand awake under the glare of fluorescent lights all night, dealing with tweakers, drunks, stoners, and bona-fide weirdos.

Last year I worked for a moving company in Everet Washington. It was a side gig on the weekends.

My full-time job was actually a paralegal working for Bristol Myers Squibb. Bristol Myers Squibb is a pharmaceutical company.

They manufacture prescription pharmaceuticals and biologics in several therapeutic areas.

My job made me responsible for advising clients in marketing and sales departments on issues relating to FDA and other regulations governing the pharmaceutical and medical device industries.

While the salary was pretty good; I needed supplemental income because my wife and I were expecting a baby girl in the summer.

One Saturday we pulled up to a moving job in Redmond. There was a note taped to the front door that said, 'let yourselves in' and 'may have difficulty moving through the house' No big deal. Typically that just meant furniture and things are messy simply because they are moving.

My co-worker Kyle opens the front door and immediately we’re hit with this horrendous smell. Imagine dead rats, garbage cans left in the heat, and fresh skunk spray all mixed together. We all gagged and held our noses. With our shirts covering our mouth and nose; we start trying to do a walk-through of the house, but, soon realize we can’t see the floor, there is so much crap lying around.

Hoarders. Hoarders of the worst kind.  Years of accumulated things occupied every inch of space.

The homeowners show up, and, acting like the smell coming from their house is normal; they began micromanaging everything.

Brandon called our supervisor and argued for 20 minutes to no avail. It had been a slow month so he advised we needed to, 'tough this one out,' for the sake of our jobs.

We all started cussing up a storm. Ten minutes in, I turn around and walked out. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't take the smell any longer. I was gagging every five seconds. Kyle and Brandon walked out behind me.

The customers were furious. Our supervisor called and said if we don’t go back we'd be reported to regional office.

I was driving, so I pulled over, turned the truck off. I told Brandon and Kyle they could do what they wanted, but, I was not going back. I raised my eyebrows and dangled the keys in front of Kyle. Kyle and Brandon both said 'hell no' in unison. I locked the keys in the truck then told Kyle to get us an Uber.

We got word the next day from co-workers that our supervisor didn’t do the job either because the house was so bad. I wanted to text him and say, 'Yeah, buddy how did you like them apples!'

These days I'm satisfied with my work place and more stable. I have to be. There's a sweet, chubby, angel that has me wrapped around her cute, tiny, finger.

Ideally you shouldn't quit a job you have before securing another one, however, sometimes you just have to know when to cut your losses and abandon ship.