Cinderella's Investment Project

So last week I got one of those scam emails by a damsel in distress and I finally have an update. Instead of recapping myself, I'll just give you the original email again:


Dearest,
My dear I am writing this mail with tears and sadness and pains. I know it will come to you as a suprise since we haven't known or come across each other before, but kindly bear with me at this moment. I have a special reason why I decided to contact you. My situation at hand is miserable but I trust in God and hope you will be of my help. My name is Amani Ibrahim Bare 25years old girl and I held from Republic of Niger the daughter of Late General Ibrahim Bare Ma?nassara the former President of the Republic of Niger who was ambushed and killed by dissident soldiers at the military airport in the capital, Niamey with his driver and a former Prefect. You can see more detail about my late father here http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/april/9/newsid_2463000/2463927.stm

I am constrained to contact you because of the maltreatment which I am receiving from my step mother. She planned to take away all my late father's treasury and properties from me since the unexpected death of my beloved Father. Meanwhile I wanted to travel to Europe, but she hide away my international passport and other valuable documents. Luckily she did not discover where I kept my father's File which contained important documents. I am presently staying in the Mission camp in Burkina Faso.

I am seeking for longterm relationship and investment assistance. My father of blessed memory deposited the sum of US$11.7 Million in one bank in Burkina Faso with my name as the next of kin. I had contacted the Bank to clear the deposit but the Branch Manager told me that being a refugee, my status according to the local law does not authorize me to carry out the operation. However, he advised me to provide a trustee who will stand on my behalf. I had wanted to inform my stepmother about this deposit but I am affraid that she will not offer me anything after the release of the money. Therefore, I decide to seek for your help in transferring the money into your bank account while I will relocate to your country and settle down with you. I have my fathers death certificate and the account number which I will give you as soon as you indicated your interest to help me.

It is my intention to compensate you with 20% of the total money for your assitance and the balance shall be my investment in any profitable venture which you will recommend to me as have no any idea about foreign investment. Please all communications should be through this email address only for confidential purposes. Thanking you alot in anticipation of your quick response. I will send you my photos in my next email.'

Yours Sincerely
Amani Ibrahim Bare


Here's my reply:

Amani, That really sucks and I'd love to help. Step parents can be real jerks.
So what do you need from me? And can you send me a pic of you?


Here's The Response:

Dear Noah,
I am very excited to receive your quick answer to my plead. I need your help to stand as my trustee for transferring the money to your account for investment project. As I told you, I am staying in the mission and I haven't a personal telephone to be reached but if you wish to hear my sweet voice, you can reach me through the office telephone number of the co-ordinator of Christ De King Mission. His name is Rev. Fr. Dennis Mongolo and his office telephone number is +22678445168. If you call tell him that you want to speak with Aminata Ibrahim Bare Mainassara am staying in Block G14 female hostel.

The reason why I ask you to assist me as my trustee is because after my arrival in Burkina Faso I contacted the bank to clear the money. The bank told me that being a refugee that the law does not authorize my status to clear or transfer money. The bank manager whom I met in person told me that the only way out is that I should provide a trustee who will stand on my behalf to transfer the money into his/her bank account.

Now all I want is that I will give you the contact of the Bank and the account number and you will contact them as my appointed trustee/representative and ask them to transfer the money into your bank account for investment project. After you receive the money in your bank account you will send some amount for me to process my traveling documents to come and complete my academic studies in your country. Therefore I want you to send me Your full contact information which include:

Your name full Name
Telephone number
Contact addressNationality
Age
Occupation
Your photo to see you.

As soon as I receive the information, I will give you the contact of the Bank so that you will the bank as my trustee and ask them to transfer the money into your bank account for investment. Attached are my photos.

Yours truly,
Amani Ibrahim

I didn't think 13 Year Old Girls Could Be So Bold To Start Investment Project.

The 5 Worst Shitty Job Co-Workers

The more shitty jobs you work, the more you end up working with the same kind of people. It's as annoying as it is funny. Which is why I broke it down to 5 different co-worker archetypes:


Smoke Break Guy:


It is known that smoking = gradual death. But smoking also equals infinitely more work breaks for smokers than non-smokers at a shitty job. While it's fine that they want to kill themselves, their breaks can come at the worst times. Here's an example:

Him: Hey dude, I'm gonna go have a smoke.

You: Umm, could you hold off till this line dies down?

Him: ....

You: ....

Him: I would if I could, dude, but I gotta have a smoke, you know how it is. [leaves]

10 Minutes later [he returns]

Him: Damn dude! You really killed that line, huh?

You: ....





The Wigger:

Yeah, we know you made a deal with your mom that you can't drive her Escalade unless you pay for the gas, thus why you're working here. And we also know your favorite movie is Scarface; rehashing every fucking line from 'Friday' doesn't make you cool with black people, dude.

You: Hey Dwayne.

Him: Sup. Yo check awt ma new boost phone.

You: How much do you pay per month?

Him: ..........Like.......Shit I don't know man, I'm on the family plan, yo.




The Struggling Actor:

With the coming end of the renaissance festival, this guy needs to find another job to sustain his annoying presence of speaking loud, occasionally singing, and overreacting to EVERYTHING. And unfortunately, you have to be his audience for the next 6-8 months, that is if the renaissance festival wants him back.

Him: Hazzaaaaahh!

You: Hey Jerry

Him: Watcha dooooooin!

You: I'm gonna go on my break now.

Him: I studied theater at the University of Idaho!






Depressed 30 Year Old Guy:

He's had waaayyyy too many shitty jobs. Better yet, he has the answer to everything, namely that life sucks and sometimes it'll kick you in the ass. He particularly loves college kids so he can crush their dreams when he asks them what they're major is.


Him: Yeah? You go to college?

You: Yep.

Him: I went to college.

You: Cool, for what?

Him: Never mind that...enjoy college while it lasts. The real world sucks.





The Overachiever:

This fucker does everything in his power to make you look bad. Ever since he won the 8th grade spelling bee he thinks whatever job you have you should give it 100%. Not only is he gunning for that lucrative shift leader position, he also calls you out on every little detail.

(These Guys Disgust Me So Much I'm Not Even Going To Add An Example)

D-Day

Name: Long Dong Silver

Job: Wal-Mart Cart Pusher

I HATED that place. First I helped grand open the store, then they tried to get me to go to 3rd shift receiving/stocking. I told the manager no thanks and he said that I didn't have a job any more once the store opened. You should have seen this guy. He was a light skinned black guy who over compensated by wearing enough gold jewelry to give Mr. T back problems. His name is Reggie. Later on I heard he got fired for stealing. I always hoped I'd run into him again so I could rob his ass and have cash4gold.com melt him for cash, just like in the commercials! Sorry, I was sidetracked by my revenge fantasy. I didn't like not having a job so I went to another manager who wasn't him and he told me I could stay on as a cart pusher. Fucking geniuses. Brand new Wal-Mart and they had 2 cart pushers to open the damn store. Also, over the first month or two of the store opening we had to unload two trucks filled with shopping carts because they order enough to begin with. Sorry, another distraction. So they moved me and another guy to cart pushing to bring the total up to 4 cart pushers. Sounded great at the time. It ended up being slave labor.

There was a mysterious guy posted on our schedule, so we always had to let them know that whenever that guy was scheduled he wasn't actually with us. We thought he had quit. Come to find out later that they were just doing that so that they could put him wherever they wanted to. Never mind the fact that we were always short handed. Also, I feel that I should mention that we didn't have those cart motor thingies that help the people push carts at Wal-Mart now. We were pushing 20-30 30+ lbs. buggies at a time.

Reggie saw me on grand opening day and told me I wasn't supposed to be there. He was furious when he found out I went over his head. From then on he had it out for me. I remember him once storming into the break room as I sat there eating my Wendy's, demanding a receipt. He accused me of walking to Wendy's on the clock and buying my food then coming back into the store and clocking out. I was 18 and hadn't learned to work the system, so I hadn't even thought of that. We had to clear the lot before we went home at night and he was usually the one to give us the thumbs up. Of course he always gave me hell. I wouldn't have been surprised to have seen him get in his car and drive a shopping cart out onto the highway just so he could tell me to go get it out of traffic.

My last night there it was pouring down rain and all we had were these shitty ponchos to keep us 20% dry and 120% soaking wet. I couldn't keep my pants on my waist because they were so drenched. I was scheduled to come in the next day at 7am and it was already 11pm at night and I was working by myself. I couldn't have cleared the lot if I wanted to, so I organized what shopping carts I could at the back of the parking lot and had planned on finishing it up in the morning when I had another guy working with me. When I came to work that morning I heard Reggie's ass on the radio trying to find out where I was. He pulled me in the office and wrote me up. At Wal-Mart at that time on your 3rd write up you were given a D-day, which was a decision making day. They sent you home with a full day's pay and you were supposed to come back the next day and tell them why you want to keep your job. It was my 3rd write up.

I never saw those fuckers again. My fondest memory was picking up my last pay check.

Featured Odd Job: Stand-In Bridesmaid

When a bride doesn't have enough girlfriends (or 'girlfriends' who bail on them), they can count on a Stand-In Bridesmaid. So far it's more gestational than anything, but more and more Bridal companies have strongly considered making this an actual on-call business, one that could certainly make some money. In February, for example, I came across this craigslist ad:

So, my fiancee and I are getting married in June. He has 8 groomsmen lined up and I only have one bridesmaid. So, I need some girls who are attractive and around my age to stand up in my wedding. You can be single or taken. It doesn't matter....you just have to be hot. But, not hotter then me. Email me for more information. The wedding will be in Madison and you won't have to pay for a thing.

Hope to hear from you!

One would assume being a Stand-In Bridesmaid requires a) you being attractive, b) you being personable, and c) you being an decent actor. But beggars can't be chosers; Personally, I think this job would be a great fit for a) a con artist going legit, b) a struggling thespian, or c) anyone reading this blog.

A Cinderella Story...But Not Really

I was fortunate enough to get an email this morning from a damsel in distress who is in dire need of my help. That's right, my help. Too bad she picked a pasty white 22 year old living in L.A. who still has last weeks Taco Bell and McDonald's wrappers sitting around the base of his room.


Name: Amani Ibrahim Bare

Job: Scam Artist

Dearest,

My dear I am writing this mail with tears and sadness and pains. I know it will come to you as a surprise since we haven't known or come across each other before, but kindly bear with me at this moment. I have a special reason why I decided to contact you. My situation at hand is miserable but I trust in God and hope you will be of my help. My name is Amani Ibrahim Bare 25years old girl and I held from Republic of Niger the daughter of Late General Ibrahim Bare Mainassara the former President of the Republic of Niger who was ambushed and killed by dissident soldiers at the military airport in the capital, Niamey with his driver and a former Prefect. You can see more detail about my late father here http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/april/9/newsid_2463000/2463927.stm

I am constrained to contact you because of the maltreatment which I am receiving from my step mother. She planned to take away all my late father's treasury and properties from me since the unexpected death of my beloved Father. Meanwhile I wanted to travel to Europe, but she hide away my international passport and other valuable documents. Luckily she did not discover where I kept my father's File which contained important documents. I am presently staying in the Mission camp in Burkina Faso.

I am seeking for longterm relationship and investment assistance. My father of blessed memory deposited the sum of US$11.7 Million in one bank in Burkina Faso with my name as the next of kin. I had contacted the Bank to clear the deposit but the Branch Manager told me that being a refugee, my status according to the local law does not authorize me to carry out the operation. However, he advised me to provide a trustee who will stand on my behalf. I had wanted to inform my stepmother about this deposit but I am afraid that she will not offer me anything after the release of the money. Therefore, I decide to seek for your help in transferring the money into your bank account while I will relocate to your country and settle down with you. I have my fathers death certificate and the account number which I will give you as soon as you indicated your interest to help me.

It is my intention to compensate you with 20% of the total money for your assistance and the balance shall be my investment in any profitable venture which you will recommend to me as have no any idea about foreign investment. Please all communications should be through this email address only for confidential purposes.

Thanking you alot in anticipation of your quick response. I will send you my photos in my next email.

Yours Sincerely
Amani Ibrahim Bare

End Message


Wow, I can't believe this chick chose me. There has to be some special reason why and I can only find out if I email her back. And she's probably hot too. She has to be, right? I mean there's no way she'd be ugly; if she is, she better put out on top of my making a shit load of money. Man, I'm so lucky. I'm gonna be so rich dude...hell yeah!

'Girls Got Rent To Pay

Name: Cecile

Job: Lots of them, actually

I am only 20 years old, but I have always had at least two jobs one full time and one part time..

-2002 (90cents p. LB) Peeling crawfish that were parboiled to be sold at 10 dollars a pound. They stunk like rotten fish and you could never get the smell out of your hands (Part time weekends only)

-2002 (6.55 hr) Stock girl at a very small town store. This was pretty much me restocking beers and dusting can goods. I once found a can that expired in 1986 it was baked beans. (Kind of Full time like 30 hours a week)

-2002 or 2003 (6.00 hr cash) Working at a snowball stand. My hands were always stained that lasted a week before they fired me so there son could work (part time)

-2003-2007 (8.00 hr cash) working at an antiques shop ran by my then boyfriend's parents. I only did it around Christmas when they needed extra help. It was the easiest job ever and I always gave discounts to people I knew.(30 hours a week during the holidays)

-2005-2007 (started at 6.00 moved all the way up to 7) working at a greenhouse as a water-er, plant mover and puller, pretty much there bitch. I worked in the hottest green house and got paid less than EVERYONE else literally. I got to deal with all kinds of plants that I was allergic to and Chemicals that burned my skin. Plus the bosses son had a crush on me and i turned him down so he treated me like crap (30 hours a week)

-2007 (10 hour cash) Working in a shop with my boyfriend at the time. Cleaning, keeping up with paperwork and occasionally helping work on cars too.I like it because I learned a lot about how to take care of cars and I could come in whenever for the extra money. (Maybe10 hours a week)

-2007-2009 (8.00/2.13 hr plus tips) worked as a restaurant bitch waiting tables, hostessing, catering, we even had a buffet, taking orders, answering phones, pretty much where ever they wanted to put me that day. It paid well especially on the to-go order side where I made 8 an hour plus at least 30 dollars a night in tips (sometimes as much as 80). Left because no one ever showed up on time if they did show up. My bosses were sleeping with half the staff.Alot of bullshit involved (up to 60 hours a week)

-2008 (7.00hr plus benefits) working at a certain popular coffee chain. It was also a really good job and had amazing benefits. It was very very easy and we spent more time bullshitting than working. When they closed down my store I left (20 hrs a week part time)

-2009 (?)- Just quit my job a few days ago and will be starting ata newplace tomorrow wonder what that job will bring.

Co-Workers Are Everything

Years ago, Brady, an old friend of mine, hooked me up with a night shift position at a gas station in Minneapolis called Super America. I have some of the fondest memories of that place, and through recent correspondences with Brady via email, you can get a little taste of some of the people we worked with:

"Do you remember Sean, the guy who thought he was an assistant manager? Perpetually depressed? I've had a dissatisfied overweight 30 year-old-ish guy at every job I've worked at since. I think he repaired fish tanks as his other job and he divorced his infertile succubus high school sweetheart about a year before he started working at SA. He carried what looked to be glamour shots of her in is wallet and I don't remember seeing him in any of the pictures- it's funny that he still kinda gloated about her, she was quite the honey I remember- real cheerleader-esque. I think he spent more time on smoke breaks than working.

I'm trying to think of some stand out costumers- lottery ticket guy, Yhada called him Scratchy. He would buy one or two tickets at a time and scratch them off while blocking a register as other people were waiting in line. He walked with a limp and I dreaded running into him on the street because I would get trapped into listening to one of his monologues about the Twins. I didn't want to be rude so I had to slowly walk beside him until I could get him off my back- I usually tried ducking into Target or other places but sometimes he would just tag along.

I heard Yhada and her cousin who worked there quit after working there for about 2-3 years. Over that time they had stolen around $4000 from the registers in total. (And I got fired for admitting I took one refill on my soda, thank god I got out of there though) Months later, Yhada came in while I was working at Gamestop with her gangsta boyfriend and swiped shit off the counter while my back was turned. Too bad that place didn't have security cameras.

I remember watching the footage with Sean of that one fight that broke out between those two black chicks. When the po came, the girls took off but one of their boyfriends stayed and became friends with the cops - weird. There was also a guy who tried to cut me through the little speaking hole in the bulletproof glass, he could only get about half the knife through- sometimes I miss the thug life."

Right now Brady is living in New Zealand and potentially moving to Japan. He's a pretty cool dude.

You Are Where You Work

For those of us who've held far too many odd jobs, there is an unspoken rule to never list all of them on your resume. It's unfortunate, because your resume can say a lot about what kind of a person you are. A slim list of jobs might say you're stable, safe, and dependable, whereas a giant list might say the opposite. This is no exception for Al:

"...I've had many, many jobs in my adult life. I've managed to whittle together a pretty seamless resume of 5 jobs, but the truth is much more entertaining. My actual resume would never get me a job, but it's pretty interesting. Here are my jobs as follows...

(note: Al has had well over 30 jobs; these are by far the best)

1) 1991 (Minimum wage), I graduate from Texas Tech with a BFA. I'm living in Lubbock Texas . I discover that aside from retail, jobs in Lubbock are non-existent. I go to a temp agency and am assigned as a landscape helper. I almost pass out trying to pull a small tree stump from the ground. I quit after an hour.

2) 1991 temp job #2 (Minimum wage); I spend two days at a recycling facility separating cardboard from truckloads of household garbage. I quit.

3) 1991. Comic Book Artist. My first comic book TAD Martin #1 is published by Caliber press. They send me a check for $1000. Subsequent issues (4) are far less successful.
Comic Listing: https://www.mycomicshop.com/comicbooks/item?IID=9781991



4) 1991. ($8/hr) I'm hired as a dog catcher by the city of Lubbock . I've blogged on this one. I managed to stay there for eight months before I got fed up and quit. I moved to Austin with my girlfriend.

5) 1992. Actor. After a month of unemployment, I am cast as the on-screen narrator of an anti-drug video for high schoolers, through a friend. They wanted someone who was "street". I didn't have the heart to tell them that I was far from "street. I made $500 for 2 days work and had a ball. I later get an agent, who gets me one gig as a "streetwise gang banger" in an anti-gang commercial. Notice a pattern? The agent takes 2/3rds of my pay for "one time fees".

5) 1993 ($5/hr); I get a job through my girlfriend, at Fine Print Magazine Distribution. I work in the warehouse stocking, packing, and shipping magazines. I later went to the business side, but I got bored and moved back to the warehouse. My manager in the warehouse was a real high-strung guy named Rick, who was always in a hurry. I remember that I was there when the Waco standoff between the ATF and the Branch Dividians was going on. I correctly predicted that the ATF would get tired of waiting and burn them out. This was a great company that worked on the Swedish vacation system, which meant that I had like 4 or 6 weeks of vacation. I quit after my breakup with my girlfriend. This job lasted 8 months.

6) 1994 ($5/hr); I move back to Austin and get a job as a trailer attendant for Goodwill in June. My job was to sort through donations that people would drop at my trailer. Most of the donated books and records were thrown away, and it was considered stealing to take donations. I stole my ass off. Before it was all over it was like the song Bad Man from the Repo Man soundtrack. "...guess how many ties? Shit, I dunno myself. Must be 23 at least, and you better believe they're all silk".
I was fired after 3 months when I left work to take a typing test with the state employment service.

7) 1994-1995 ($7-$8/hr); Working for Harris Publications I telemarketed Alumni directories, and later J.C. Penny Accidental death and dismemberment insurance. This is the job that I first started taking ephedrine at. Six a day. Plus unfiltered cigarettes. I was laid off after 8 months when the contract ended. I lived it up on unemployment insurance for 6 months.

8) 1996 ($6.50/hr); I took a five month vacation in which I got a girlfriend, hung out, drank and lived off unemployment. Great fun. Too bad I was running out of unemployment funds. Through Manpower, I got a job in the IBM prep dept. It was simple as sin parts packaging and assembly work. The contract ended two months later, three days before Christmas.

9) 1997. ($5.50/hr); I got a temp job with the Comptrollers office, calling delinquent taxpayers. I got frustrated with the always-broken computer system and quit after 6 weeks.

10) 1999-2000 ($9/hr); I work in the photo department of Multek (which makes printed circuit boards). My job is production of film, and machine maintenance. I work with an older guy named Cesar who at one time was a guerilla fighter in Guatemala . Cesar teaches me how to use the internet, so you can indirectly blame him for this blog. The manager was a prick, and the company seems to be on shaky legs, so I quit when I get a job at BOC Edwards semiconductor cleaning services.

11) 2001-2002 ($9.50/hr); I cover my dreads and tattoos and get a job as a Security Guard at the State mental hospital. Unfortunately the uniform is short sleeved, and I wasn't allowed to wear a hat, so my ex-army supervisor canned me a week short of my 6 month probation. He couldn't fire me for looking strange, so he fired me for "stealing". The stealing was actually me writing on my log that when I was making a round of a building, I borrowed a book from the bookshelf (yes, employees were allowed to borrow books). Everybody I worked with that I told, cried bullshit.

At this point I am seriously considering trying for an SSI psych disability. I'd been diagnosed as bi-polar2 and schizo-affective, and had been on medication for almost 10 years.

12) 2003-2004. ($25/per); I landed a column at the Jackson Mississippi alt-weekly, The Planet. I pissed off a lot of people with my angry rantings.

13) 2004-2005. ($8/hr); the same money I was making in Austin in 1996. I look for work as a security guard because I figure I'll be by myself, and less likely to encounter bosses. I'm hired at Executive Security Systems to watch an apartment complex with 10 buildings with 24 units per building. I start out in the summer in a truck, and eventually end up the next summer in a golf cart. It's not the greatest neighborhood, and there are lots of gunshots at night. While I was there, the following interesting things happened. Someone took a shit in the pool. I was expected to make children behave. I was called a "Rent-a-cop ass bitch". I foiled a car theft.
I was the only guard that stayed for any length of time. The other guards left after a month at most. I must admit that I got apathetic at the end. I spent a lot of time in the activities center, either sleeping or watching cable TV. I think they were getting better jobs. Right before I quit to do my current job, I looked through the paychecks at the office. I was getting paid less than anyone else.


This leads us to my current gig. Looking at this list, it actually makes a pretty good skeleton for a novel. I'm not going to name my current employer. I don't want any trouble. I want to keep this job, as it's pretty cool. I've been here for 3 years now, and if all goes well, I'll retire from here. I think that good sense is on my side now. I'm more conservative, more suspicious and careful, not on mood altering psych-meds, and not trying to do anything but blend into the shadows. I'm a good employee, but being a great employee was beaten out of me over the years.

Featured Odd Job: Gum Buster

You know when you're chewing gum and you get that uncontrollable urge to stick it under something? Yeah, I know you do. We all do it. And I can safely say it's not disgusting, you should actually keep doing it. Because If you don't, you'll put the Gum Busters out of business. That's right, the Gum Busters.

Back in 1998, a Dutch chemist created the Gum Cart, a little dry steaming machine that conveniently removes gum from its eclectic locations in just 5 seconds. This was specifically designed to solve the 'Gum Pollution' problem plaguing the west. GumBusters was birthed out of the creation; the rest is history.


Based all around the western world including England, Austria, Switzerland, and the U.S., GumBusters gets countless contracts to remove gum anywhere from amusement parks to sports stadiums. Just when I thought this was the city workers job...except not really. Who'd fucking know this was an actual international business that will never go out of business. As long as people keep instinctively sticking gum under public benches and tables, you can count on running into a Gum Buster.

Check it out for yourself at www.gumbusters.net

Catching Dogs Can Be A Bitch

Name: Al

Job: Dog Catcher


The city of Lubbock Human resources building was located on Thirteenth Street. I put on a suit to apply. I was taking my mother's advice. Since then I figured out that most bosses want you to look poor and needy to hire you. The job board was pretty sparse. The only thing I was even remotely qualified to do was be an Animal control officer, so I applied for that. I'd remembered seeing one of those guys on the news, chasing a dog with a catch pole, and thinking "Do people really do that?" Later that year, I would be on a news clip at a dog show, scooping up dog shit and uttering the lamentable cliché, "It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it." They made me say it. If I had my way I would've said, "I'm a genius. Why am I doing this?"

I was hired on two weeks after the application went in. All the new officers had to start as shelter attendants. Every morning, I'd scrape and hose shit from the dog runs into the gutter, feed the dogs, then clean the cat cages. Why they kept those feral cats they caught is a head scratcher. I'm allergic to cats, which is bad enough, but it's even worse when the cat comes flying at you claws first, when you open the cage. Have you ever seen a cat climb a brick wall? I have. By the time I was finished in the cat room, I couldn't breathe, and my eyes were swollen shut.

Around 11 a.m. we did the "kill" for the day. Because of the numbers, we'd just roll the cages into the gas chamber and cram as many together as we could, then turn on the gas. The dogs seemed to know when it was time for the final walk. They'd act like death row characters. Big mean rottweilers turned into scared puppies when the time came to take them in. We'd clear the chamber of gas and start yanking them out. For those of you who don't know, dead animals feel just like heavy sacks of wet laundry. The only difference is that laundry doesn’t shit and piss on itself when it dies. Most of the other attendants would just yank them out all willy-nilly, and I could hear tendons popping, which was sickening to me. I took the scruff of the neck route. I'd open a black garbage bag; hold it with my left foot and left hand, and scruff the dog in with my right hand. Swoop! Fast and easy. Then I'd swing them up onto the back of the pickup. This was quite a workout for a little guy. I got to be deceptively strong for my size. We'd then drive the truck to the city dump, weigh in (I'd usually be able to guess the amount within a hundred pounds or so), and go to a pre-determined area, where we'd toss the contents of the bed into a bulldozer scoop. Let me tell you. Dead dogs will splash nasty things back into your face when you toss them and they land on the pile.

After a month of training classes, I received my badge, gear, and truck and was put out on the street. Contrary to popular opinion, dog catchers don’t "patrol" to pick up strays. We answered complaint calls. It was a half and half proposition. Some days there would be no calls, other days you might have a hundred calls. When things were quiet, I'd find a nice secluded spot to hide, just like a cop. I'd go places that nobody could find. I had a few. I figured if I was out on the street, somebody would flag me down with some bullshit.

I really got to hate dealing with the public. People were a pain to me. We had radio codes, and a 98 was a complaint, while a 99 was a bite. I never wanted a 98 or a 99. It took forever, and while I was there, the calls would be racking up. I preferred a 90, which meant a dead animal. Dead animals don't talk, but they can be interesting. Once I had to pick up the front half of a havalina, lying in the middle of the street. The back end was missing. Once I had to muscle a stiff Great Dane into the truck. It weighed more than I did. Dead weight is a truth. My most memorable dead dog experience though was this call I got, where I found this old lady complaining of a dead dog in the alley. I went down the alley, and couldn't find him, and then she pointed him out to me. Let me preface this by saying, once something dead swells enough, it will blow up all over you if you're not careful. I was careful. It was a medium black shepherd, lying in the scrub. Its belly was three times normal size. Its eyes had been eaten away, and from its mouth poured a fountain of maggots. They looked like spilled rice. I thought it over, and got my catch pole out. The catch pole is a metal rod with two rubber grips and a spring loaded, plastic covered metal noose on the end. I fished around, and got him high on the right front foreleg and dragged him out. It was going well until I lifted him up, and the skin peeled away from the leg. I thought "If he hit's the ground, I'm finished." I managed to get him into the truck though. I always did. I never called for help.

One week out of four I was on call. This meant that any asshole could call and complain at 3 in the morning, and I'd have to go take care of something that could have waited until later. The worst times were when I'd have a busy day, finish my last call, and then get an after hours call before I even got back to the office. Sometimes I'd work 16 hours straight.

Although I detested being on call, one of my fondest memories came from one of those nights. It was about 3 a.m. (as usual) when my pager goes off. I call in, and the city dispatcher tells me that there are cows loose on the highway, and the police were there waiting for me. Cows... What the hell did I know about cows? I was from the South Side of Chicago. I drove along trying to figure out what I could do with a cow besides eat it. When I got to the spot, the cops had the highway blocked. There were about eight cows, roaming around. All of a sudden an idea flashed into my head. I could take the truck, drive it to Mexico, and not have to do this. Instead I hit the mars lights, and drove towards the herd. I started honking the horn, and they started moving. I got them off the highway, and onto the hill. We'd recently switched from trucks to vans, and luckily my van was in the shop. If I hadn't been driving a truck I would have rolled it. I got the cows back to the broken fence they'd come out of, and me and the cops fixed the fence. When we were through one of the cops said, in a Texas twang, "Yew know, yew make uh pretty good cowboy!" On the way back home, the cop passed me and flashed his overheads. I flashed mine back. That's as close as I ever got to being liked by the police.

Please Email Rick James

I started this blog because I myself have had very strange jobs over the course of my life. So, I'll go ahead and begin with one from the not so distant past:

Name: Alex

Job: Customer Call Rep

I answered a craigslist posting reading something like 'Call Center Rep For Herbal Company'. Within 24 hours I corresponded with a 'Mike' whom I later met in a hidden office from a leasing complex and got myself into hands down the weirdest job I've ever experienced:

The first thing 'Mike' tells me is that I have to use a 'not real' name. 'Mike' is Armenian, by the way, so picture a foreign dude with slicked back hair and a suit he probably got at Ross. So shocked by this question, the only name I can come up with is my porn name (Middle name and the street you grew up on), Alex Daytona. 'Mike', thinking the name sounds cool, likes this and tells me he's going to get me on phones.

Turns out this place is a call center for a succession of pop up ads selling placebo diet products. Essentially, I get calls from people pissed off they got charged for products they didn't want even though it's stated in the fine print. If these people want their money back, I'm instructed to give them an email address to contact and 'request' a refund. Little did I know I'd be getting a call days later with a pissed off guy demanding to speak to 'Rick James'.

Apparently, this guy emailed the address and got a response from 'Rick James' who basically egged him on to call the better business bureau if he had the balls. Now, in my limited experience in the internet scam world, I'd think if you used a fake name, it better be somewhat common, you know, like 'Bill Johnson' or something like that. But no, one of the Russians in the back handling emails decides to use 'Rick James'. And this guy wants to speak to him.

I dont know who Rick James is, but soon enough my boss put one of these email hooligans at the desk next to me, apparently one who was goofing off too much. So I asked him "Are Your Rick James?", to which he quickly replies "Who's Asking, Bro?"

Mr. James appropriately answered my question.

Odd Jobs: A Chronicle Welcomes You!

For Those Of Us Who've Had A Consistent Amount Of Odd Jobs, We All Know They Usually Start Off With A Manual Or An Instruction Video; Since This Is A Blog, There Will Be No Struggling Actors Talking Over 80's Music Like A Video Would. So Here's The Instructions:

1) State Your Name And What The Job Is
- It doesn't have to be your real name.
- If The Job Is Something Boring Like Target Or Ralphs, The Story Better Be Funny.

2) Tell The Story
- If It's Not Funny, It Better Be Interesting.

3) That's It
- Send It To phil.traum14@gmail.com