The types of jobs/work we have had since our younger years, and including our younger years.

Babysitting
Packing for a moving company
Cutting grass and clearing weeds in a neglected cemetery
Lab technician - tissue culture work - in a cancer clinic
Stay at home mom
Drafting - Autocad
Administrative assistant for a surveyor
Software developer
 

More or less in order (there was some jumping around):

Berry and fruit picker
Fast food cook and cashier
Waitress
Factory worker
Typesetter
Camp cook and cook's helper
ESL/EFL teacher
Aide on handicapped school bus
Newspaper deliverer
House construction helper
Housekeeper/cleaner
Freelance editor

Retired! Never made any money and never want to work again.
 
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Donut maker and shop keeper
Gas station employee
Professional Musician
Warehouse supervisor
Magazine and Book distributer
Music teacher
Remedial reading and math teacher.
Minister
House cleaner
Firewood cut and delivery
Remodeling/house painting
Custom cabinet building
Farming ( raised hogs, chickens, goats, and had huge gardens )
Computer refurbishing
Ca. Conservation Dept. crew chief, on making a long fire break/firefighter

This is a memory test for me. That's enough for now...if I remember more you won't hear about them. :)
 
OK...I'll bite:

After being thrown out of a second school for terminal truancy, (my 'education' basically ceased when I was 12) I:
- At age 14 I worked in a laundry using Dickensian equipment....that lasted about a week
- Pushed a delivery bicycle for a butcher, and later graduated to 'butcher extraordinaire'
- Supermarket warehouse
Went to Australia
- Picked grapes for a week in the Barossa Valley (made no money 'cause I was too slow to earn more than what covered my 'keep' (such as it was)
- Skinned kangaroos for pet food....that lasted half a day.....yuck.
- Butchered in a 'Spam' type plant
- Worked on a dam site in N.W.Aust.....that generated enough to get me around the world
One year Intermission
Back in Australia, drove a truck.
Emigrated to Canada
- Worked for Westinghouse on an assembly line for a year.
Drove around the US and down into Mexico with two other guys
Went back to Canada after three weeks
- Variety of menial jobs.
- Traveled in eastern/northern Ontario selling musical instruments to stores for an importer
Went to Europe with my first wife for about a year, (following which we put each other through school)
First day back at school (Business Admin) my then wife asked how it went, to which I replied "There are some dumb ****s there, and many of the students are no better"
- Loaded freight cars evenings/summers while attending school
- Then worked as a hotel detective at a Toronto hotel until graduation
- Purchaser for a hotel chain
- Hired by the Telco as a sales rep.....got promoted...and jumped at the chance to join their Saudi project.
- Stayed in Riyadh for 7 years, 6 weeks & 2 days.....last day of work Dec 31, 1988.
Kept hoping for a buyout but they kept offering me positions.....so I quit, aged 46 1/2......don't want to overdo it you know.
-
 
Electronics technician
Electronics Engineer
Reliability and Maintainability Engineer
Project Engineer
Cost Estimator
Contracts Administrator
Civil Air Patrol Search Pilot
Angel Flight West Command Pilot
1941 23 Ton switch engine restorer
Tourist train Car Attendant
Travel blogger
 
I worked as a construction equipment mechanic before working as a mechanical designer where I was designing equipment similar to what I had previously repaired. I tried to make my designs easy for the mechanic to work on and not bust his knuckles.

Then I became a software engineer after getting a four year degree in computer science and wrote software mainly in the aerospace industry... some for NASA, some for the military, used to analyze data from satellites built for various purposes. Some of it was classified so I can't divulge what it was used for.
 
I had several different jobs, too. I considered making a career out of a couple of them, but I got into a habit of moving house every 2 or 3 years, and also I just wasn't that excited about making those particular jobs my life's work. They were psychiatric nurse and phlebotomist.

In my teens I worked for my grampa as a tailor's assistant. In my early 20's I was a gas-station attendant and college student. Then I quit college and got a job as an ad artist for a local newspaper (all my ads were hand-drawn) while I went to diving school and scuba-related job training.

After that the chronology is kind of a blur, but I think it went like this; heavy equipment operator, salvage diver, millwright (at a sawmill), psychiatric nurse and then a phlebotomist, and then I fell off a cliff. A big one.

Some time after that, when I could walk pretty well, I drove a bus. Later, managed a few restaurants, and then a couple liquor/convenience stores, and then I bought a liquor store, and then I sold it and just managed one again. And only about 4 years ago, I obtained a foster-care license. Last spring I let it expire. I wish I hadn't.

Anyway, I could be wrong but I think that's it. I liked all my jobs, and I really loved some of them. But not enough to make any of 'em a career, apparently.
 
In high school, worked in a bakery on the bread slicing machine.
After graduation, at a car wash for 75 cents an hour.
At a shoe factory stamping the sizes on shoes.
Air Force
Roofer's helper then college
Electronics technician until retirement.
Part time at snack food distributor and mobility products manufacturer.
 
Early years:
Aged 12 - cleaned desks at elementary school and tutored 3rd graders
Hotel cleaning staff - summers
Restaurant salad maker - summers

College years:
Audio-visual aide in college
Chemistry stockroom aide in college
Microbiology lab tech in college
Recreation supervisor
EKG technician

Post-college years
Laboratory Manager and Research Tech in cancer field
Data manager - clinical studies
Medical claims approver
Medical office receptionist

Family years (stay-at-home mom)
Novelist
Poet

Recent years - went back to college
Adjunct Faculty, English Department at a university

There are more but these came up first....
 
Here's a work related tale, (from 50+ years ago), which still makes me laugh whenever I think about it:

While attending college, and loading freight cars part time, a friend/classmate from Trinidad was looking for work......I put in a word for him and got him hired.

So far, so good, until some government minister instituted a 'looks go on paper' program.

The government would 'force' those on unemployment assistance to work (six weeks, if I recall correctly), and pay their wages, (if they quit before the time was up they were SOL)..........they would then be 'trained' as a Platform Man.......job description: "See that box over there? Pick it up and put it here".

Foreman told us he wanted to keep us on, but we'd have to get on the program.

Down to the Employment Office, together but separately........we cannot, on pain of death, let on that we're attending school otherwise we'd be ineligible.

We're ushered into adjacent cubicles where we can hear everything the others are saying.

Guy interviewing my friend said "You're a relatively new arrival, there are better jobs".......to which he replied "No, this is the job I want!"

Woman interviewing me (Oh, before returning to school I was in Europe for ~ a year), asks what I've been doing all this time......I attempt to look contrite and mumble a noncommittal response.

"What does your wife think of this?" Again I present an abashed facade. "You're a lazy bugger, aren't you?" she says. Which I acknowledge as gospel.

"City Hall is looking for clerks" she says........."I don't think I could handle all that writing" I respond.

We're both on the program.

Then, as if it had been choreographed, we leave at exactly the same time, don't acknowledge each other, and walk down the stairs side by side without a word.

Out the door, down to the busy street corner, where we can't suppress the laughter any longer.

Two grown, 6' men, laughing like fools, with our arms around each other's necks because we'd fall over if we didn't.

Somewhere I still have my signed Platform Man certificate.
 
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Babysitting in teens
Summer job at sub sandwich shop
Secretary for city electric company
Secretary for lawyer
Waitress in NCO Club in Germany
Accountant for mfg. Co
Cosmetologist, owner of salon
Admin Asst for library director
Secretary at HQ NY State Police
1st Deputy Clerk for Town
 
For a couple weeks served drinks at a strip club for women clients. Oh boy, do the women get wild. And some wait outside at closing time for the male strippers, I don't know, maybe to go get a coffee at Dennys.
 

The types of jobs/work we have had since our younger years, and including our younger years.​


Ah, story time

Been awhile since I posted this

Centering on younger years;

First Jobs

My very first ‘job’ was hoeing roses for an ol’ guy at the end of the mountain road up from our place.
He was a prize winning grower, lots of entries and ribbons and medals and plaques from all over and of course Portland, the City of Roses.

As a teacher, the crotchety ol’ fart was not the gracious diplomat he was when accepting an award.

‘Quit pickin’ at it like a goddamm woman, goddammit.’
‘Gimme that hook.’
He’d jerk the ‘hook’ outta my hand and commence to beat the holy crap outta those roses.
Apparently, the ones that survived became resilient and hardy....and beautiful.

The hook was not much more than a smallish three prong pitchfork bent 90°.

‘You don’t stop till it’s rainin’ like a cow peein’ on a flat rock.’

That was the work schedule.

And off he’d go in his dilapidated ’49 ford sedan.
The engine sounded like it would blow apart any minute, pistons rattling around, tappets tapping a beat, zero oil.
Only drove it a few hundred yards, just to harass us.

One of the old hands said, ‘just hoe like mad until you get over the hill, then you can take a little break’.
The old gent seemed to know what he was talkin’ about, he’d been there a long time.
Back permanently stuck at 45°.
Kinda bugged me...'cause when it was rainin’ like a cow peein’ on a flat rock, we’d all beat feet over to the walnut tree....here he’d trudge...and there he’d stand....bent.
His hands were stuck in a hoe holding position.
Not big on talkin’.

‘How long you been doin’ this?’

‘Some time now.’

‘Huh.’


It was $.60 an hour...10 hours a day.

I’d been there just a few days, and hoein’ like mad.
The hill just a half hour of back breaking hacks away.
Once over the hill, outta view from the ol’ guy’s shack, I straightened up and leaned on my hook.
Just stared into the sun.
Rolled a smoke.
A smoke never tasted so good.
I was just getting into a mind filled tryst with Sophia Loren when I heard, ‘That’s enough of that, git offa my property.’

I turned around and there he was, leanin’ on them crutches.
How in hell had he snuck up on me?
Had he crutched his way up the hill, knowing full well what I was doin’?
At first I was startled, and maybe a bit scared.
Then I got mad, and with the knowledge that several fields of hay bales were just waiting for me, I headed right for him.
His expression changed from sneering disgust to alarm.
‘Don’t worry ol’ man. I’m not gonna beatcha.
You’ve done enough of that yerself.
Here’s yer hook.’

So, yeah, I got fired from my first real job.



When we moved closer to town, I got an evening job at a rather posh restaurant.
The Hillvilla.
It worked well with my junior year schedule.
Work till 11pm…sleep through class..if I went.

Washing pots and pans.
My first day, I ran a sink full of water, hot and cold.
The owner, Ed Palaske, reminded me of Mr McGoo, kindly, gently turned off the cold water.
Hot water and steam came outta the tap.
‘We don’t use cold water. It’s not so sanitary.’
His hands and forearms looked like lobsters...no hair, red, much like a burn victim.
Lou, the cook, doing a great impression of Ed Asner, just leaned on the counter and grinned.
I’d never known hot water up till then.
The crab pots and pans, from making crab louie, did loosen up better.

Then I graduated to the salad bar.
Much like a bar tender.
The waitresses would come up, order, and I’d prep, sip a coke and munch on crackers.

This one waitress, guess she was in her late thirties, would tell me dirty jokes and chit chat when ordering.
She had blonde hair, all pulled back, like Kim Novak in Vertigo....rather buxom...like my dad’s Police gazette gals.
I had fantasies about her while I was sleeping in class.

Sometimes a dignitary would call me over,
‘Hey sport, here’s a buck, get me a pack of Winstons outta the machine...keep the change.’

If a patron didn’t like their meal, one of us would get it.
It .....was...... goooood.

After my shift, and the upstairs was closing, I’d head downstairs and get another coke from the bar, and if lucky, I’d chat more with Kim Novak, and watch her sit there, undulating.

I think that was my best high school job.

I know it was.
 
Furniture and drapery store opening boxes and dumping trash.
Summer punching holes, cutting sheet metal and grinding welds in a sheet metal factory. After 4 years college, Navy — Pre and during Vietnam War, Main Engines officer on an Aircraft Carrier, followed by Personnel officer and Brig officer in Spain. Following Navy, Asst Mgr Margin Dept in a small brokerage firm, followed by 22 years in the headquarters of a bank handling and selling securities, Trust work, followed by early days of computers, Novell CNE, setting up networks and server rooms, and computer support svc.
 
Gary O' said:

The types of jobs/work we have had since our younger years, and including our younger years.​


Ah, story time

Been awhile since I posted this

Centering on younger years;

First Jobs

My very first ‘job’ was hoeing roses for an ol’ guy at the end of the mountain road up from our place.
He was a prize winning grower, lots of entries and ribbons and medals and plaques from all over and of course Portland, the City of Roses.

As a teacher, the crotchety ol’ fart was not the gracious diplomat he was when accepting an award.

‘Quit pickin’ at it like a goddamm woman, goddammit.’
‘Gimme that hook.’
He’d jerk the ‘hook’ outta my hand and commence to beat the holy crap outta those roses.
Apparently, the ones that survived became resilient and hardy....and beautiful.

The hook was not much more than a smallish three prong pitchfork bent 90°.

‘You don’t stop till it’s rainin’ like a cow peein’ on a flat rock.’

That was the work schedule.

And off he’d go in his dilapidated ’49 ford sedan.
The engine sounded like it would blow apart any minute, pistons rattling around, tappets tapping a beat, zero oil.
Only drove it a few hundred yards, just to harass us.

One of the old hands said, ‘just hoe like mad until you get over the hill, then you can take a little break’.
The old gent seemed to know what he was talkin’ about, he’d been there a long time.
Back permanently stuck at 45°.
Kinda bugged me...'cause when it was rainin’ like a cow peein’ on a flat rock, we’d all beat feet over to the walnut tree....here he’d trudge...and there he’d stand....bent.
His hands were stuck in a hoe holding position.
Not big on talkin’.

‘How long you been doin’ this?’

‘Some time now.’

‘Huh.’


It was $.60 an hour...10 hours a day.

I’d been there just a few days, and hoein’ like mad.
The hill just a half hour of back breaking hacks away.
Once over the hill, outta view from the ol’ guy’s shack, I straightened up and leaned on my hook.
Just stared into the sun.
Rolled a smoke.
A smoke never tasted so good.
I was just getting into a mind filled tryst with Sophia Loren when I heard, ‘That’s enough of that, git offa my property.’

I turned around and there he was, leanin’ on them crutches.
How in hell had he snuck up on me?
Had he crutched his way up the hill, knowing full well what I was doin’?
At first I was startled, and maybe a bit scared.
Then I got mad, and with the knowledge that several fields of hay bales were just waiting for me, I headed right for him.
His expression changed from sneering disgust to alarm.
‘Don’t worry ol’ man. I’m not gonna beatcha.
You’ve done enough of that yerself.
Here’s yer hook.’

So, yeah, I got fired from my first real job.



When we moved closer to town, I got an evening job at a rather posh restaurant.
The Hillvilla.
It worked well with my junior year schedule.
Work till 11pm…sleep through class..if I went.

Washing pots and pans.
My first day, I ran a sink full of water, hot and cold.
The owner, Ed Palaske, reminded me of Mr McGoo, kindly, gently turned off the cold water.
Hot water and steam came outta the tap.
‘We don’t use cold water. It’s not so sanitary.’
His hands and forearms looked like lobsters...no hair, red, much like a burn victim.
Lou, the cook, doing a great impression of Ed Asner, just leaned on the counter and grinned.
I’d never known hot water up till then.
The crab pots and pans, from making crab louie, did loosen up better.

Then I graduated to the salad bar.
Much like a bar tender.
The waitresses would come up, order, and I’d prep, sip a coke and munch on crackers.

This one waitress, guess she was in her late thirties, would tell me dirty jokes and chit chat when ordering.
She had blonde hair, all pulled back, like Kim Novak in Vertigo....rather buxom...like my dad’s Police gazette gals.
I had fantasies about her while I was sleeping in class.

Sometimes a dignitary would call me over,
‘Hey sport, here’s a buck, get me a pack of Winstons outta the machine...keep the change.’

If a patron didn’t like their meal, one of us would get it.
It .....was...... goooood.

After my shift, and the upstairs was closing, I’d head downstairs and get another coke from the bar, and if lucky, I’d chat more with Kim Novak, and watch her sit there, undulating.

I think that was my best high school job.

I know it was.
Click to expand...
Another good story! Thanks for the chuckle, @Gary O' !
 

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