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Beautiful writing. I know the nostalgia of your first tough job. Mine was certainly not as blue as the oil fields of Alberta, nor the railways, it really wasn’

Beautiful writing. I know the nostalgia of your first tough job. Mine was certainly not as blue as the oil fields of Alberta, nor the railways, it really wasn’t even blue collar. But I did find it tough. I was a food runner in a kitchen built to serve 90 that served 450 + catered events. The chaos and heat was overwhelming. My most active day was doing 30,000 steps during a 5 hour lunch shift, half of which were walked with a 40+ pound tray being carried just over my shoulder (on the shoulder was not classy enough). The kitchen was easily 110 degrees and had a single comically small fan that did absolute fuck all. The steam from the washing machine blasted you every time you went to grab bread, the chef was a maniac who makes “the bear” look really chill in comparison. And even without him every person in that kitchen was ready to explode at any time. Fortunately I make quite a bit more now than I did then. I’ve made it to the other side of the dining car window, so to speak. But I really do miss it. Especially the chaos. If you spent 30 seconds in that kitchen, you’d be confused as to how a single dish ever made it out the door. And yet we consistently served 2k+ people on our busiest days. It was the best job I’ve ever had and likely will ever have.

MrMcCall 2y ago
> The kitchen was easily 110 degrees and had a single comically small fan that did absolute fuck all. I worked as a server at a Golden Corral (large all-you-can-eat buffet here in the States). One summer Sunday, the AC went out early afternoon. By the shift change, I was already literally soaked, other servers called out, so I decided to help out and work a double. Note that this was Sunday, so the church folks (nice but hardly the best tippers, as GC is cheap American grub) were more interested in buffet eating than the insane heat, so it was still packed! But the best job I ever had was walking security routes (not for intrusions, but for spotting safety problems like leaks or smells or a worker in distress, none of which ever happened) on ships in local shipyards, including a massive BAE one. We'd walk the routes and tap the RFID tag-dots with the wand, twice an hour. The first ship I walked (for $8/hr) was one of only four transocean cable laying ships. It had two huge vertical cyllindrical wells that stored the cables that would be fed out the back as it laid them. Getting to see the entire ship, walking up and down the ladders, into the engine room and around the bridge and those two giant wells was sooo cool. Other ships I got to work on were a navy ammo resupply ship being decommissioned, a cruise ship, and, best of all, a huge container ship with a geek-salivating bridge whose engine room was massive and clean and spacious. I got to see it all, and be paid to exercise. And seeing a pair of guys wrangling a huge elbow pipe section out of its very tight space using chains and pulleys to inch the giant (meter in diameter with inch-thick steel) up and over using hand-crank lever things was impressive. The connections were ringed with maybe inch-thick bolts, just massive. I often poke my nose into my daughter's all-metal-gear Singer 503a sewing machine's top to get a whiff of that industrial grease to remind me of that badass engineering room smell. Another great assignment was for a smaller shipyard that did small yacht repairs. It only had room to do one at a time, but the part of the walk that went through their office had a little living room-style waiting room that had a coffee table with a coffee table book on it that catalogued the Dodge brothers' (founders of the automobile company) use of their profits to build and sail luxury yachts on the Great Lakes. Those early 1900s ships were gorgeous. Those engine guys did well for themselves (I believe they built the original engines for Ford). The key to the job, however, was I got weekly overtime at 1.5x, so I'd pick up any shift I could, as all hours >40 were $12/hr. One week I worked 64 hours, including 20 straight! My wife and I would sometimes literally just see (or just miss) each other as she got home from her restaurant work, and I would be going to the shipyard. Thanks for the inspiration, friend. Yes, times used to be far simpler, and in many ways more enjoyable in that simplicty, sweat, and smells.
codpiece 2y ago
You write well. I loved my days in restaurants, and you capture it way better than I ever could. I wish I could go back, but its impossible..
Cthulhu_ 2y ago
I've had a few odd jobs before 'settling' as a software developer but while I appreciate the experience and diversity and sometimes think back on the simplicity of at least one of them, I don't really consider them the best jobs. I did a paper round (6 days a week, took about an hour), manufacturing (most brain-turn-off job ever), scaffold building (heaviest job, also because it was the height of summer), DIY store floor work (great part time job to do alongside an education), vegetable packing, that kind of thing. Nowadays I rebuild front-ends over and over again. We're doing form fields again.
- brnt 2y ago
  I did scaffold building exactly one day. I knew why I had to absolutely start taking my opportunities more serious at the end of that day.
lqet 2y ago
No nostalgic feelings here: I was conscripted when I was 19 and did my alternative civilian service in a home for Alzheimer patients for roughly a year. Although I was not directly involved in care (I managed the kitchen, gave food to the patients, did smaller repairs, cleaned), it was, by a large margin, the hardest job I ever had. It was the first time I became clearly aware that there is a part of the population that cannot even publicly complain about their workload because they are too tired in the evening to even hold a basic conversation. Although the home looked nice and clean, and there were some sweet moments, the place in general was crazy and frightening to newcomers and visitors. Patients wandered off through the fire exits, they fought with each other, they died, they went to the toilet in the corner of their rooms, they were sexually interested in each other, grabbed breasts and ran around naked, they fell and injured themselves, they got panic attacks because they wanted to go home, because they suddenly thought they were in a bomber attack on Berlin in 1944 and had to go to the bunker - I could go on and on. One patient, a sweet old lady, was convinced that I was her fiance who died during their flight from Danzig in 1944. After a few weeks, she was convinced I had an affair with another woman, and her feelings towards me became more hostile. During my first week, an old, huge WW2 U-boat sailor became convinced he was in a bar fight and started attacking people. We had to lock him into his room. My major responsibilities, lunch, breakfast and dinner, were usually complete chaos: imaging a room full of adults who behave like 2 year olds. They tried to eat their drinks with a fork, fell into their soup plates, threw their food onto the floor, complained about the food, refused to drink, cried, choked on the food, wandered off, all while a single patient who didn't even recognize her son anymore loudly proclaimed poems she learned in school as a little girl. Dealing with relatives was also challenging, because they usually refused to accept the state their loved ones were in. We had one wife who repeatedly wanted us to get her husband to read Plato and Aristotle again, because "he loves doing this". But her husband, a former professor, couldn't even read or write his own name anymore and was mainly interested in trying to get female patients naked. Other highlights include the time I confused the liquid for our industrial dish washer with a container of hand soap (they looked exactly the same) and flooded the entire kitchen and dining room with a 10 cm carpet of foam. Also, I once worked the late shift for 11 days straight, without a single free day in between. I am sure that wasn't even legal. Afterwards I couldn't remember what I did on individual days, it somehow all blurred together. All for a pay of around 300 EUR per month (40 hours/week, back in 2007). I was so glad when it was over. But the experience greatly helped me in my later jobs, to put the workload into perspective. It was a humbling experience.
tetris11 2y ago
Mine was as a Domino's delivery driver in Angel, London. The long nights zipping in and out of cars on my moped, the generous tips you got on Saturdays, the non-descrit unmarked doors between two shopfronts that lead to an entire hidden luxury housing estate, the raucous office parties led by clearly coked up execs, and the not rare occurrences where you're invited up into someone's flat to hand deliver a pizza to their bed. Nostalgia glasses fully on, it was best of the times.
matwood 2y ago
I believe everyone should work a service job at some point in their life. It gives a perspective you won't find anywhere else. Your story brought back my memories of being a server in fine dining restaurants before landing my first programming gig. It was (mostly) controlled chaos with everyone on edge dealing with some of the most unreasonable people you could ever imagine. Did I also mention that I worked every single holiday? It wasn't a restaurant attempting to be as regimented as The Bear, but similar story lines played out. Chefs yelling at each other, yelling at me, wanting to go out and yell at customers for ordering lamb well done, etc... I wouldn't say I miss working in restaurants, but I do miss the finality of each service. When the last table left, that day was done. There was nothing to take home and stress about.
- MrMcCall 2y ago
  I waited tables for a few different places, none of it fine dining, but I did try to choose places with good food. Two of the best were a homestyle italian place; I learned that smoked gouda is the best cheese for BBQ chicken pizza, and not too much sauce! The other (my first restaurant work) was at a Turkish restaurant with homemade light brown whole wheat bread, cooked on a real stone oven. The owner, Kazim, was a bit of a wino whose stunningly beautiful wife was a PhD at the CDC in Atlanta. Opposites attact. Lamb and feta pizza is amazing. The kitchen guy was a young-20s illegal from Mexico who hadn't seen his family in 18 months, and sent the money back. Juan was such an impressive human being. He taught me the Mexican version of the N-word, and said, "Do not ever say this." And I won't, but I remember it to this day. And, that mezze plate was the best shift food ever, besides maybe that BBQ pizza. Thanks for the nostalgia. Yes, I don't miss that kindof hard work, but the experience was invaluable, and I always tip well. It's an easy bit of good karma to put an extra smile on someone's face because we shared our hard-earned cash with them in appreciation for their difficult and oft-underappreciated work. There's a lot of talk around here lately about 'vibe coding' but I'm far more into 'vibe living' where we consciously create good vibrations in the people around us. There are so many people in this world spreading their negativity who should instead take us service-oriented folks' understanding of service to humanity as a societal baseline. Not all of us who graduated out of low-level jobs retain our humility and humanity, but it makes those of us who do better, more caring and considerate citizens.
chasd00 2y ago
guess i'll share. I spent my late teens driving a weed eater walking behind tractors mowing highways and state parks in North Texas. 100+F many days in the summer and required to wear work boots and eye protection (very hot), I still have scars from sunburns on my arms. Most of my family on my mom's side are West Texas oil hands and ranchers. My grandfather, all of my uncles, and most cousins are dead or their bodies broken to the point they can barely walk or stand up and live in constant pain. Widows are very very common in West Texas. I think i'll keep my office job.

MrMcCall 2y ago

> The kitchen was easily 110 degrees and had a single comically small fan that did absolute fuck all. I worked as a server at a Golden Corral (large all-you-can-eat buffet here in the States). One summer Sunday, the AC went out early afternoon. By the shift change, I was already literally soaked, other servers called out, so I decided to help out and work a double. Note that this was Sunday, so the church folks (nice but hardly the best tippers, as GC is cheap American grub) were more interested in buffet eating than the insane heat, so it was still packed! But the best job I ever had was walking security routes (not for intrusions, but for spotting safety problems like leaks or smells or a worker in distress, none of which ever happened) on ships in local shipyards, including a massive BAE one. We'd walk the routes and tap the RFID tag-dots with the wand, twice an hour. The first ship I walked (for $8/hr) was one of only four transocean cable laying ships. It had two huge vertical cyllindrical wells that stored the cables that would be fed out the back as it laid them. Getting to see the entire ship, walking up and down the ladders, into the engine room and around the bridge and those two giant wells was sooo cool. Other ships I got to work on were a navy ammo resupply ship being decommissioned, a cruise ship, and, best of all, a huge container ship with a geek-salivating bridge whose engine room was massive and clean and spacious. I got to see it all, and be paid to exercise. And seeing a pair of guys wrangling a huge elbow pipe section out of its very tight space using chains and pulleys to inch the giant (meter in diameter with inch-thick steel) up and over using hand-crank lever things was impressive. The connections were ringed with maybe inch-thick bolts, just massive. I often poke my nose into my daughter's all-metal-gear Singer 503a sewing machine's top to get a whiff of that industrial grease to remind me of that badass engineering room smell. Another great assignment was for a smaller shipyard that did small yacht repairs. It only had room to do one at a time, but the part of the walk that went through their office had a little living room-style waiting room that had a coffee table with a coffee table book on it that catalogued the Dodge brothers' (founders of the automobile company) use of their profits to build and sail luxury yachts on the Great Lakes. Those early 1900s ships were gorgeous. Those engine guys did well for themselves (I believe they built the original engines for Ford). The key to the job, however, was I got weekly overtime at 1.5x, so I'd pick up any shift I could, as all hours >40 were $12/hr. One week I worked 64 hours, including 20 straight! My wife and I would sometimes literally just see (or just miss) each other as she got home from her restaurant work, and I would be going to the shipyard. Thanks for the inspiration, friend. Yes, times used to be far simpler, and in many ways more enjoyable in that simplicty, sweat, and smells.

codpiece 2y ago

You write well. I loved my days in restaurants, and you capture it way better than I ever could. I wish I could go back, but its impossible..

Cthulhu_ 2y ago

I've had a few odd jobs before 'settling' as a software developer but while I appreciate the experience and diversity and sometimes think back on the simplicity of at least one of them, I don't really consider them the best jobs. I did a paper round (6 days a week, took about an hour), manufacturing (most brain-turn-off job ever), scaffold building (heaviest job, also because it was the height of summer), DIY store floor work (great part time job to do alongside an education), vegetable packing, that kind of thing. Nowadays I rebuild front-ends over and over again. We're doing form fields again.

brnt 2y ago
I did scaffold building exactly one day. I knew why I had to absolutely start taking my opportunities more serious at the end of that day.

lqet 2y ago

No nostalgic feelings here: I was conscripted when I was 19 and did my alternative civilian service in a home for Alzheimer patients for roughly a year. Although I was not directly involved in care (I managed the kitchen, gave food to the patients, did smaller repairs, cleaned), it was, by a large margin, the hardest job I ever had. It was the first time I became clearly aware that there is a part of the population that cannot even publicly complain about their workload because they are too tired in the evening to even hold a basic conversation. Although the home looked nice and clean, and there were some sweet moments, the place in general was crazy and frightening to newcomers and visitors. Patients wandered off through the fire exits, they fought with each other, they died, they went to the toilet in the corner of their rooms, they were sexually interested in each other, grabbed breasts and ran around naked, they fell and injured themselves, they got panic attacks because they wanted to go home, because they suddenly thought they were in a bomber attack on Berlin in 1944 and had to go to the bunker - I could go on and on. One patient, a sweet old lady, was convinced that I was her fiance who died during their flight from Danzig in 1944. After a few weeks, she was convinced I had an affair with another woman, and her feelings towards me became more hostile. During my first week, an old, huge WW2 U-boat sailor became convinced he was in a bar fight and started attacking people. We had to lock him into his room. My major responsibilities, lunch, breakfast and dinner, were usually complete chaos: imaging a room full of adults who behave like 2 year olds. They tried to eat their drinks with a fork, fell into their soup plates, threw their food onto the floor, complained about the food, refused to drink, cried, choked on the food, wandered off, all while a single patient who didn't even recognize her son anymore loudly proclaimed poems she learned in school as a little girl. Dealing with relatives was also challenging, because they usually refused to accept the state their loved ones were in. We had one wife who repeatedly wanted us to get her husband to read Plato and Aristotle again, because "he loves doing this". But her husband, a former professor, couldn't even read or write his own name anymore and was mainly interested in trying to get female patients naked. Other highlights include the time I confused the liquid for our industrial dish washer with a container of hand soap (they looked exactly the same) and flooded the entire kitchen and dining room with a 10 cm carpet of foam. Also, I once worked the late shift for 11 days straight, without a single free day in between. I am sure that wasn't even legal. Afterwards I couldn't remember what I did on individual days, it somehow all blurred together. All for a pay of around 300 EUR per month (40 hours/week, back in 2007). I was so glad when it was over. But the experience greatly helped me in my later jobs, to put the workload into perspective. It was a humbling experience.

tetris11 2y ago

Mine was as a Domino's delivery driver in Angel, London. The long nights zipping in and out of cars on my moped, the generous tips you got on Saturdays, the non-descrit unmarked doors between two shopfronts that lead to an entire hidden luxury housing estate, the raucous office parties led by clearly coked up execs, and the not rare occurrences where you're invited up into someone's flat to hand deliver a pizza to their bed. Nostalgia glasses fully on, it was best of the times.

matwood 2y ago

I believe everyone should work a service job at some point in their life. It gives a perspective you won't find anywhere else. Your story brought back my memories of being a server in fine dining restaurants before landing my first programming gig. It was (mostly) controlled chaos with everyone on edge dealing with some of the most unreasonable people you could ever imagine. Did I also mention that I worked every single holiday? It wasn't a restaurant attempting to be as regimented as The Bear, but similar story lines played out. Chefs yelling at each other, yelling at me, wanting to go out and yell at customers for ordering lamb well done, etc... I wouldn't say I miss working in restaurants, but I do miss the finality of each service. When the last table left, that day was done. There was nothing to take home and stress about.

MrMcCall 2y ago
I waited tables for a few different places, none of it fine dining, but I did try to choose places with good food. Two of the best were a homestyle italian place; I learned that smoked gouda is the best cheese for BBQ chicken pizza, and not too much sauce! The other (my first restaurant work) was at a Turkish restaurant with homemade light brown whole wheat bread, cooked on a real stone oven. The owner, Kazim, was a bit of a wino whose stunningly beautiful wife was a PhD at the CDC in Atlanta. Opposites attact. Lamb and feta pizza is amazing. The kitchen guy was a young-20s illegal from Mexico who hadn't seen his family in 18 months, and sent the money back. Juan was such an impressive human being. He taught me the Mexican version of the N-word, and said, "Do not ever say this." And I won't, but I remember it to this day. And, that mezze plate was the best shift food ever, besides maybe that BBQ pizza. Thanks for the nostalgia. Yes, I don't miss that kindof hard work, but the experience was invaluable, and I always tip well. It's an easy bit of good karma to put an extra smile on someone's face because we shared our hard-earned cash with them in appreciation for their difficult and oft-underappreciated work. There's a lot of talk around here lately about 'vibe coding' but I'm far more into 'vibe living' where we consciously create good vibrations in the people around us. There are so many people in this world spreading their negativity who should instead take us service-oriented folks' understanding of service to humanity as a societal baseline. Not all of us who graduated out of low-level jobs retain our humility and humanity, but it makes those of us who do better, more caring and considerate citizens.

chasd00 2y ago

guess i'll share. I spent my late teens driving a weed eater walking behind tractors mowing highways and state parks in North Texas. 100+F many days in the summer and required to wear work boots and eye protection (very hot), I still have scars from sunburns on my arms. Most of my family on my mom's side are West Texas oil hands and ranchers. My grandfather, all of my uncles, and most cousins are dead or their bodies broken to the point they can barely walk or stand up and live in constant pain. Widows are very very common in West Texas. I think i'll keep my office job.