Blaine Muhle

I’m really not even sure this one needs an explanation…

I don’t know why they wouldn’t just give you a wizard hat with your Snuggie purchase instead of their nice reading light!

Classy!

Nicole Allan

What a crappy job…no pun intended.

Image taken from:

http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/dailyweekly/2010/08/legalized_marijuana_means_more.php

Chelsea Christensen

Hired under the pretense of a “marketing assistant,” my short-lived summer job consisted of me standing on a busy street corner holding a “Lunch Special $4.99.” As an insult to injury, the required dress included a long-sleeved black shirt with “Wingtown Grill” plastered on the back of it, to be worn for 2 hrs in the heat of a long summer day.

This sign the owners so cleverly created consisted of PVC pipe and a tarp cloth. Seems fine at first, but add 40mph winds and a wind tunnel and you have me with a bloody lip, hurt pride, and an audience of cars at the intersection honking, pointing, and laughing at me. Needless to say, that job didn’t last long.

Sara Zehnacker

A lab technician for Methodist Children’s Hospital sounds like a promising summer internship, right? The first couple hours started off well for my sister, with her professional white lab coat and name tag…she looked almost like a doctor. They walked her into a high tech laboratory loaded with state-of-the-art equipment. They took her to her workstation full of all of the necessities for her “promising” summer internship.

Then reality set in when she noticed that the all of collection cups were neatly labeled: urine, feces, fpupum, and emesis…in other words: pee, poop, snot, and vomit. Yes, her summer was filled with transferring all the disgusting bodily fluids and wastes from collection cups to petri dishes with a high tech Q-Tip.

What’s worst than a “Crappy Summer Job?” A Crappy, Vomitose, Snotty, Pissy Summer Job!!!

Scott McIntyre

This picture is the only one I am allowed to show on a public sight. I am inside a “clam shell” canvas shelter starting my day by drinking to my addiction at the time to Bluebird OJ. It was free so I drank a lot of them.

This picture was taken while I was in the country of Qatar. I was tasked as a crew chief (maintenance manager and mechanic for my assigned airplane) The typical day was as follows:

Get up at 11pm (night shift) head to the chow hall, eat then go to work.

Work was from 12 midnight to noon (sometimes longer depending on the situation of my plane. I would have a few periods of down time if the plane was ready to go (which usually was not the case.)

The temperature was the hardest part of the job (100F at night with insane jungle humidity despite being in the desert.) At about 9am it was miserable since I couldn’t go around in shorts and sandals. I would take breaks under the shade of the airplane wing on the concrete and pour a bottle of cool water on my chest to cool down. I would be dry in 15 minutes. This was 6 days a week for 100 days and sometimes 7 if it was needed. I remember going four weeks without a day off and I was always dreaming of how I couldn’t wait to get home.

At the end of the work day I would head to the gym and workout (it’s a good way to relieve stress), eat, then shower and head to bed. The next day I would start all over again.

The days could get hectic at times and as the weeks went on, people would start to ware on each others nerves. I did get to go to Doha a total of three times for both deployments, but it wasn’t during my time off (a van would going during my normal sleep time during the afternoon.) It was still worth the sleeplessness just to get to see something other then sand as far as the eye could see.

As a side note I will say that the army has it far worse then I ever did, I wasn’t getting shot at at the time and it was only for 100 days which I did twice. The army regularly goes for a year at a time which would probably make me loose it.

Theresa Berens

If I ever complained about my nannying or grocery store jobs in high school, I could count on my parents to remind me that it wasn’t that bad. When my aunt was in high school, she scored the charming job of fly paper fly counter. Yes, that’s counting the number of flies that stuck to fly paper on farms.

It always shut me up pretty quickly. The grocery store suddenly seemed palatial.

(Image courtesy of http://rachelherrick.files.wordpress.com)

Alfredo Lang

What’s worse than having a crappy job? Having to do all of them! Or the worst, only the dirty ones :S

Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs must be getting paid a lot. Not only has he done the nastiest jobs you could ever think of, but has to do it with a smile on his face, at least for the picture anyway.

Some of his past jobs/episodes include: Steel Mill Worker, Termite Researcher, Steam Ship Cleaner, Diaper Cleaner, Dirty Chip Maker Cleaner.

Sure he is endorsing Ford, and Lee, but still, would you want his job?

Katelyn Mackey

Try working at a country club as the poolside snack-shack girl for the summer. My main customers were young, rambunctious boys with more attitude than a thirteen-year-old girl. They racked up 50 dollar charges of Roy Rogers and Laffy Taffy on a daily basis. As a service to the customers we would bring them their orders on the pool deck, whether they were four or 40. Needless to say, I treated kids like royalty that summer and got splashed countless times in return.

Best perk of all? Being on event staff for a birthday party and spinning cotton candy for three hours on a 90 degree day in July. By the end of the day I was covered from head to toe in sticky, pastel sugar. My favorite moment was when a dad came up to me and asked if I had looked in a mirror lately.

(Side note: My first day on the job I had no idea what a Roy Rogers was and accidently accused a little boy of trying to sway me into serving him an alcoholic beverage. Complete with an eye-roll and all the sass he could muster, he explained that it was merely a “cherry Coke, JEEZE!” Thanks to that little boy putting me in my place, I’ve brushed up on my non-alcoholic beverages since then.)

Hannah Husman

If you haven’t seen this video, I recommend it.

Due to the questionability of this man’s hygiene, I’m uncertain as to whether or not he sees a hairdresser regularly.
However, in lieu of professional assistance, imagine how hard his shampoo has to work to remove all that algae. I hope he lathers, rinses, and actually repeats.

Maybe a couple times.

And heads up to the folks at Gatorade, I think I may have found your new spokesperson.

Meg Ruggieri

I’m sure being a Starbucks barista is cake. Or coffee. Whatever. I was NOT a Starbucks barista. I worked at a coffee shop that valiantly attempted to compete with Starbucks for a while but ultimately, much like my job itself, failed.

This is a picture of my best friend and I in high school after having a giant thing of spoiled whip cream explode in our hair, our faces, all over our bodies..etc. etc.

Don’t be fooled by our goofy grins and laughter, this is to keep from crying. I got paid minimum wage to essentially be slave-driven by sugar-crazed seven year olds.

You see, our most popular drink was the “Cookie Monster” otherwise known as THE DRINK FROM HELL. It involved ice cream, oreos, whip cream, cappuccino mix, ice, milk and god knows what else. I made about 50 of these a day. The clean-up involved in these kind of drink masterpieces was a fate worse than death but worse yet, we had to clean out the pressurized whip cream containers. In over-preparing for the after-school child apocalypse, we occasionally made too many and they went sour.

This would be fine, if the bottles themselves weren’t suicidal and exploded every time you cleaned them. As a result, I spent the majority of my sophomore year in high school smelling like the inside of a college coed dorm room refrigerator after winter break.

Yup, THAT BAD.