Thursday, January 14, 2010

TIME for employment

Interesting article in TIME this week about how the economic downturn has affected employment for kids under 18. As the article states, Proportionally, more kids have lost jobs in the past few years than the entire country lost in the Great Depression.

Lots of stories about kids without their GED's who can't find jobs. How's this for a solution - don't knock up your loose girlfriend when you're both 16, so you don't have to drop out at Grade 10 to take care of a baby neither of you has any business raising. No, somehow I don't feel any sympathy for these kids.

And really, the proper ones living at home who can't find a weekend job? Get over yourself. These jobs are only meant for you to make some pocket money in the first place, so it's not exactly a job market crisis. Yeah, I really feel sorry for the girl who struggled to find a job at Godiva, which pays $8.25 an hour. My job when I was 16? Usher, at Cineplex Odeon Cinemas.

I worked there for 12 months, at $6.40 an hour. Yeah. That was legal minimum wage. Substandard pay scales masquerading as competitive compensation, as deemed by the largest movie chain in North America. They made us clean shit splattered all over the bathroom walls (no shit) with no protective gear save for a garbage bag fashioned as a poncho. Toilet scrub couture. I've personally seen with my eyes how disgusting North Americans can be. There's something about movie theatres that attracts the lowest common denominators in an already obese and slobby society.

The highlight of my time served at Cineplex (besides dealing with the uncivilized masses) was when I was approached by a 300+ lbs woman coming out of the woman's bathroom. She asked me if she could get a garbage bag from me. I asked why, and she whispered that she had stomach issues, undeterredly decided to eat a family sized bucket of popcorn with butter, had resultant explosive diarrhea, flooded the toilet...................and shit was literally plastered all over her sweatpants. The moment that will forever be seared into my memory? When she turned around and asked if I could see any stains. I quickly hustled my manager over to deal with her. Your problem now!

Working in the theatres is supposed to be fun, where you can fool around with your co-workers and see free movies. How come all my memories are shit-stained, like that time some douchebag literally crop-dusted 3/4 of a bathroom stall with his ass?

Point is, sweetheart, don't complain about a job at fucking Godiva. The only oozing brown you have to worry about is melting chocolate.


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