Paul Cancun
Hi, my name is Paul and yes that is a flower on my shirt. It’s part of my work uniform, but let me tell you this thing is a chick magnet.
So where do I work? Kaufmann’s, those of you not familiar with Kaufmann’s, it is just like Macy’s and JC Pennies of Western New York.
So I work at a department store in case you haven’t gotten it yet. That’s right … 22 years old ... fresh out of college ... a degree in marketing ... and this is the best I could find.
Sigh.
The day annoyingly starts at 5 a.m. since the early shift starts a 6. I put on the same dress pants I wear everyday, throw on a tie, put the flower power on, and off I go.
Now I’m not gonna bore you and tell you exactly what I do cause if I don’t even like what I do all day, why the hell would you wanna hear about it?
I’ll sum it up in a nutshell. I am that guy you see when you go into a Sears, Macy’s, Kaufmann’s, etc. that is walking around with a cell phone attached to his ear or holding papers ... you know, looking like I’m real important.
I will tell you one story that seriously made me consider walking out. This old lady comes up to me one day and pulls some granny panties out of her bag. She goes, “Here, take these and look at them.”
I grab them and casually inspect them and ask what the problem is, to which she replies,
“I only wore them once and look the stitches are coming out ... ”
“WHOA!” I said as I quickly dropped them to the floor. I didn’t know this underwear I was playing with like Silly Putty in my hands, was on your spider-veined vagina only a few days ago. I swear I would have super kicked her ass if I found just one pube.
Not that I don’t love my job, cause I do. There are about 150 employees at my store and about 12 are guys (nine being managers). So the other 99.4 percent are total female. And for all you math majors out there, that equals a lotta pussy.
The other thing I love is the average age at my work is about 65, so it’s completely drama free. Hell my associates bring me in cake, strawberries, coupons to get my car washed, even flotation devices for my pool.
There is none of this Johnny fucked Sally after work one day and now they don’t talk so Sally won’t work near Johnny bullshit. My associates exchange split pea soup recipes.
Doesn’t get any better than that. Now if you’ll excuse me I got some Golden Girls to take care of.
Nicholas Mendola
I live in a land where the following things are considered documentable and newsworthy:
a) elderly folks who use pets for therapy
2) tips from Boy Scouts on building soapbox racers
d) folks who get detailed and original patriotic tattoos
France) France
Yet, much to my chagrin, I think it's best that I shy away from where I'm working right now, the righteous, wonderful and creative Night and Day Magazine, Tonawanda News and Niagara Gazette. This is a good job that I do not want to be fired from, let alone spend another 30 seconds thinking, or writing, about the interview I did with Queensryche.
The best story I have is from the most classic of all corporate bong nuggets: my 2001 stint at K-Mart, a.k.a. Big K, Super K.
Trolling the aisles of Big K one day, helping folks navigate their way from the hot new Shaggy CD to the NASCAR-apparel division, I heard a creepy voice come over the loud-speaker:
"Clock 33 (that's my work number), dial 221."
Now the good news is that my reward for the chore I was about to do was $20 K-bucks, which meant four new baseball hats or about a week's worth of putrid Little Caesar's. The bad news?
Somebody took a crap in aisle 6.
My boss informed me of this as if I was going to either a) quit or b) punch her in the throat. I, however, took it in stride. What's a turd or two from an obviously spilled diaper?
You underestimate Big K shoppers.
This was a freaking Real Deal Holyfield log of poop from an adult anus. Do I sweep it up? Do I use thousands of paper towels to TC the B? Do I use a Jaclyn Smith-brand bra to scoop it? One thing was for sure, I wasn't going to put it out with my boots, and Ted was nowhere to be found.
I'll save you the details of the grimy collection, but I will tell you that weeks later, when they wouldn't grant me my vacation time to head up to Toronto with my then-girlfriend and her family for Jays/Phillies interleague madness and a stay on their houseboat for a week, I called in two minutes before my shift started and quit.
Two weeks notice? Try poo weeks notice (Poo is a funny word).
Oh, and about my job right now, I will tell you what is great: paper toilet seat covers!
Ian Valentine
When I am not writing immaculate articles for ZubazPants.com, you can find me working at Champs Sports In Times Square, New York City. I already know what your thinking, “Oh man, that’s so cool, you get to work in Times Square!!!!!, And you get to work with sports!!!!! That’s an awesome job!!!”
You couldn’t be more wrong. Sure I get to work in the center of the universe, I get paid very well (which is the only reason I stay there), and we have the worlds biggest bobble heads (Jason Kidd, Allen Iverson, Derek Jeter, and Tiki Barber), but its not all its cracked up to be.
I hate my job. I have never been a more disgruntled employee in my life. The place straight up sucks. It is the worst job I have ever had.
First, I have to take the subway to get there. The NYC subway is the nastiest, dirtiest piece of shit thing out there. Even if the train isn’t coming late which it always is, there are rats and garbage everywhere, the place smells like piss, there are homeless people who smell like shit begging you for pennies, all sorts of retards trying to sell random things from bootleg DVDs, stolen stuff, candy, and even Ziploc bags of friend chicken for money (not kidding). Not a trip to work is safe without at least five of these things happening to you. It may sound funny, but its more annoying that a hemorrhoid. Trust me on that one.
Then, when I finally get there, my shift is from the hours of 4 p.m. to 1:30 a.m. Yes, a.m., as in, in the morning. Quite possibly the worst hours EVER. Weekdays suck, and weekends are even worse. You can forget going out that night. Your social life is in a straightjacket. Good thing I have a girlfriend or else I would be a lonely pathetic man.
Then my shift begins. Now this is when my job really starts to suck. Because the store is in Times Square, the store is considered the ‘flagship’ Champs Store. Being so, it is as corporate as it comes. Every single rule must be followed, and met to a T. If not, you get fired, and I am not kidding. In the past month I have seen 10 people get let go. The employee turnover ratio is disgusting. You basically have to work to a corporate and flawless level. It’s like Champs Sports Survivor. You screw up, you get the axe, and they have no remorse in doing so.
Now onto my job. My shift includes a sales goal. If I don’t hit it, I risk getting written up. After two write ups, I risk getting fired. I also have to get seven people to sign up for our VIP program, which is simply a benefit card that gets you discounts.
However, no one wants it because they are all tourists that are never coming back, so it’s about as useful as an asshole on their elbow. But even so, I have to get seven people to sign up or I risk getting written up, and thus fired.
With regards to shoes, there are ratios employees must hit. Each employee must sell 1 shoe care for every eight pairs of shoes he sells, one six-pack of socks for every six pair of shoes he sells, and one insole for every 20 pairs of shoes he sells. You don’t hit your personal ratios, you risk getting written up, and thus fired. Sensing a trend here?
Plus, the store must be in immaculate appearance at all times. Each size of each piece of clothing must be accounted for on the floor, and each t-shirt pile must be 22 shirts high. And yes, they count. Don’t do your job keeping the store looking perfect, you risk getting written up. So basically on top of hitting the ratios, keeping your sales high, and getting your VIP’s, I have to keep the store in tip top shape at all times. This includes endless folding and hanging shirts. It never stops.
Did I mention that out of 55 employees there are only five white people? Not that I mind because I’m not a racist and most of them are cool as hell, but for the first time ever, I’m literally a minority.
Then there’s the customers. Almost every customer is a foreigner who speaks a different language. I have to deal with people from all over the world telling me what they want in their own language. Inevitably I have no clue what they are talking about, and they get mad at me for not having what they want, yet of course I still need to get them to get a VIP and shoe care. Very annoying. And as you know, must New Yorkers are assholes, so try dealing with a hundred of them a day, being rude, inconsiderate and being in a hurry. Then I even get the crack heads. Hell, I have even been asked if I could get a guy heroine. Probably the worst variety of customers anyone can ever have.
Oh yeah, how could I forget some simple store rules. Well you have to come and go to work in full uniform, so if you are coming in to work from somewhere, or want to go out after, you have to change into or out of your uniform on the street. And then we have to sign in when we leave and when we come writing down what shoes and clothes we have, so they can monitor us. And lastly, no cell phones allowed in the store. Not even when you are on break.
Then at midnight we close. That is of course if a new pair of Jordans isn’t coming out at midnight. If that’s the case then people have been lined up for hours outside waiting for our midnight madness sale, which keeps us open even later. On normal days however we have to clean, count or ratios, and fill everything in. Finally, at 1:30 we get to leave.
But my night is just beginning. After midnight the subway only runs about once every 30 minutes, and it hits every stop on the track instead of skipping the ones that no one usually uses. So basically I catch a train by about 2 a.m., and take a 30-45 minute ride home, which would usually take 15 minutes. Finally, at about 2:30, I arrive home, go to bed, and have nightmares about doing it all again tomorrow.
So how fun does working in Times Square sound now? Not so great huh? From the subway, to sales goals, ratios, folding, and homeless guys selling friend chicken, it’s not all that great. It’s a virtual Boot camp. I bet you are wondering why I even stay there. Well it pays extremely well for a part time job so I deal. But it sucks on every aspect besides the pay rate.
Hell, if someone from work happens to see this, I may even get fired for it. But I wouldn’t mind. Damn, put me out of my Champs Sports misery. It’s only a matter of time until I crack and quit anyways, or get fired for not hitting goals. But If I do get fired, I guaran-damn-tee that I am taking out a whole pile of t-shirts on my way out.
Fuck you Champs.
Jim Byrne
While I did just start a new job at some local newspaper, I really don’t have enough ammo on it to create anything remotely funny.
So, with that in mind, I’m going to tell you about the last job that I had.
From January until earlier this month in June, I interned at the world’s most famous arena. Yes, I worked at the glorious Madison Square Garden.
While there, I worked for MSGNetwork.com, the website that backs up the MSG network on your television. Their role is similar to that of ESPN.com’s to the ESPN network.
As you can imagine, my time there was pretty sweet. How could you not have fun working in the same building that the Knicks were playing in, and pretty much just watching sports games the entire time you worked? What a gig!
Everyone that I worked with was cool as hell too. Most of you know that when your work situation is like that, it is always a pleasure to be there. These guys played Jerky Boys all the time and were constantly adding classic shit to my vocabulary. You would be hard pressed to find a cooler group of people than those I spent my time with at MSGNetwork.com.
To top off my great experience at MSG, I got to meet some of my favorite Knicks of all time, including Walt “Clyde” Frazier and John Starks. In fact, on my first day of work at MSG, the other guys I worked with had to have one of those closed door meetings, so they left me to watch the wires (all the sports news that comes in) by myself. On their way out, one of them mentioned to me, “Oh yeah, Walt Frazier is going to be stopping by, just knock on the door if he gets here before we are out.”
I was stunned. “Oh shit,” I thought. “Walt Fucking ‘Clyde’ Frazer is going to be walking in here in a moment. I nearly pissed my pants.
So, a few minutes later, lo and behold, here comes Frazier through the door. And let me tell you, he is just as cool as he seems on TV and in the “Just For Men” commercials. His outfit was typical “Clyde” and immediately he started chatting me up. Perhaps the best part of the conversation was when he started ripping the Heat’s Christian Laettner. He was talking about Shaq having to carry a bunch of bums on Miami, and when he brought up Laettner’s name he just started cracking up for a solid 10 seconds. Classic shit.
Another thing I found pretty cool was that we shared the same bathroom with Frazier. Think about that for a second. I got to shit on the same toilet bowl as a Knick legend!
One time I walked into the bathroom, ready to take a leak, and I heard vintage Frazier verbosity coming from one of the stalls …
“Sitting and shitting,” Frazier rapped from the toilet bowl. I took that cue and tried to rhyme as I was whizzing in the urinal. “Urinating and … uh, uh, dammit!” was all I could muster.
“Come on man,” came his voice from inside the stall. “You can do better than that! You have to be the catalyst in this vestibule of defecation.”
“I don’t know Clyde,” I said back to him. “You’re the master at this, not me.”
All of a sudden I felt a trickle at my feet and a hearty laugh from the stall.
“PISSING AND MISSING,” exclaimed Frazier as he created a pool of urine around my feet.
“You bastard!” I yelled as I fled from the scene.
I’ll never forget that, Walt “Clyde” Frazier is one classic dude.
