By M.K. Moynahan
Contributing Writer
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In looking back on all the jobs I've had over the past four decades, it occurs to me that I was out of my mind when I agreed to take on some of these tasks. While all of these jobs _ good, bad or ugly _ have helped shaped the person I am today, I can't help chuckle at some of the more oppressive jobs I've had, beginning with the very first one _ delivering, via my bicycle every Saturday morning, a weekly advertiser newspaper. This was and is my worst job ever.
Growing up, I had eight other brothers and sisters. My mother, a stay-at-home mom at the time, did her best to provide all we needed in terms of food and clothing; however, there wasn't much left after that. So if I wanted spending money or those must-have pair of shoes, I knew I would have to earn the money to buy them. So, when I was 12 years old, I decided I had to get a job. I took a job as a newspaper delivery person. Each Saturday morning, I loaded up my bicycle basket with as many of the 600 papers I was supposed to deliver and set about my task. The going rate for delivery at the time was ½ a cent per paper.
At first, I was motivated and energetic. It took nearly all day to deliver the papers and it was back-breaking work. My checks were generally $30, which seemed like a fortune to me at the time. While delivering, my bicycle split in half. There I was on Forest Avenue, as if viewing this in slow motion, and the front part of my bicycle continued forward while the rear, with me on it, stopped and tipped over, as did the front, eventually, scattering all the papers all over the road. It was then I decided that I wanted out.
I asked my parents if I could give two weeks notice. They said no. They wanted this job to build character and teach me work ethics. I didn't argue or plead with them; I simply decided, one way or another, I would be done with this paper route. The next Saturday, I set off on my brother's bicycle and preceded to deliver the papers for an entire block. I found a vacant lot and dumped the first batch and made several trips back and forth, dumping the rest of the papers in the lot. I remember thinking, "This is easy. They'll never know."
Was I wrong. That evening, my supervisor called. She had found all the papers I stashed in the vacant lot. She said she was very disappointed in me and had no choice but to fire me. I was elated at first. Then guilt and the shame of being fired set in. Mom and Dad were none too happy with me and I was grounded for a while.
So my first job was my worst job and the only one I have ever been fired from, because I vowed to myself that no matter how distasteful a task, I would give notice rather than allow myself to be fired again.
Whether it be a bad task, career choice or a horrid boss, there are no shortage of stories in our area to describe bad job experiences. Don Dales, owner of Fallsview Studio in Hobart, now restores furniture and other jobs he enjoys thoroughly. For Dales, however, it wasn't always this way. His is a macabre tale and one he laughs at when he recounts the story.
At the ripe old age of 16, Dales' elderly neighbor Hattie Fisher had passed away. At the time, he and his brother were caretakers at the Harpersfield Cemetery and the task of grave digging fell upon Dales. "The cemetery called and asked if I would dig Hattie's grave. Keep in mind this is Delaware County soil filled with a lot of rocks and hard clay," he said. "I thought all the graves needed to be dug six feet deep. So I dug and I dug and used the pick ax to remove the rocks. I knew the funeral was in two days so I had to hurry. It took me all day, and by the end, I had a grave that was 6 feet deep, 3 feet wide and 7 feet long."
Dales said he felt accomplished and very proud until his boss came and viewed the grave. "The undertaker comes and says, 'Oh my God kid, no one digs 6 feet deep. We only dig 3½ feet deep,'" Dales said.
After the funeral, Dales had the task of covering the grave and the minimum wage at the time was less than one dollar. "I had to shovel the dirt back in to cover the casket. It took about 20 hours, which I was paid 75 cents an hour. It was an adventure," he said.
While there are many people who have had bad job experiences, there are those people, such as Oneonta City Mayor Dick Miller, who said have been fortunate to never have had a bad job.
And, according to Miller, attitude is everything and is the reason he has personally never had a bad job, including his service in the military in Vietnam.
"I'm the kind of guy who always sees the glass as overflowing. I've never had a job I didn't like," Miller said. "I can't imagine what it would be like to have a job I didn't like. I've been very blessed. Even my tour in Vietnam was good. I mean there were some distasteful moments there. But in looking back, it was also a very worthwhile experience in my life and helped shape who I am today."
Miller said that he was fortunate to have very good bosses who were always willing to go the extra mile to teach him what he needed to know for each job. "I had great mentors in a variety of ways. I learned so much from the people I worked for and with," he said. "Mostly I learned to always have a positive outlook even in bleak periods."
In agreement, Stamford resident and publisher Andrew Flach said that while he has never had a job he has not liked, there were distasteful tasks within at least one of the jobs he has had. Despite that, Flach said the experiences were all beneficial and good character-building life lessons. One of Flach's earlier jobs was renovating an apartment building in New Jersey. The building had many tenants and on one occasion, there was a sewer problem in the basement of the building.
According to Flach: "It wasn't so much the worst job. It was more like the dirtiest job I've ever had. I arrived one day to discover that the sewer lines were blocked. One week's worth of effluent had spilled in to the cellar and had covered the entire floor. There were people who fixed the block lines; but, there was no one to clean up the mess in the cellar, except me. So I had the distasteful task of wet vacuuming 2 to 3 inches of ankle-high waste and pine oiling it afterward to get rid of the odor. I did it and that was the end of it. It taught me that there is nothing too great for us to strive for and that there is nothing too lowly for us to do. Work is work."
