On A Very Special Issue of Praxis

Icee Truck
by Peter Aguero
Mohammed, or Mark as he introduced himself to me, pretty much just gave me a truck and a route on sight. He walked me through the prep process which was simple: hose out the truck, which was chock full of bees every morning, check the big steel cooler for dry ice levels, fill the scoop reservoirs with hose water, and go on your way. That the scoops and hose water lived right under a county sanitation certificate was of no consequence.

The Secret To Eternal Life
by Diane Hoover Bechtler
I accepted an entry-level position in the office of an envelope manufacturing company. I operated a mimeograph machine. Mimeograph machines existed before current copiers/Xerox machines/computers. Look in history books and you'll see a picture of one near the first printing press.

Assignment From Hell
by John Brooks
Contrary to what you might imagine, being an EMT is very seldom 911 calls attending to disaster scenes, snatching people from the jaws of death, and then later playing volleyball with the person and their family as they give a cookout in your honor.

Paste-up Before Cut-and-Paste
by Anne Campbell
There must have been more than that to the job (fetching coffee, maybe), but this is what I remember: cutting and gluing, then getting glue on fingers that picked up tiny bits of paper and odd commas I didn't want and got stuck where they didn't belong. When I did put them in the right places the commas slipped, like tadpoles, from where I'd put them, so they were below or above the line, or slumped so they were at an angle to all the other letters.

The Old Pornographers
by Jeremy Clymer
Whenever someone would bring a stack of videos from that back room—and it was always a stack—we would ring him or her up while making minimal eye contact and trying desperately to avoid small talk. Then, once the person was out the door, we would pump a few squirts of hand sanitizer and rub our hands vigorously.

When You Sober Up Enough, Could You Please Bring Me a Drink?
By Clane Hayward
My first night on the job, I made two hundred dollars, I made out with a rock star, and I broke a pool cue over someone's shoulders busting up a fight.

The Customer is NOT Always Right
By Kevin Kelly
My signature work move was putting on Yoko Ono's “hits” anthology Walking On Thin Ice about 10 minutes before closing time in order to ensure the store was empty by the time we were ready to lock the doors. It worked every time.

Tips
by Dana Norris
I was trying to be helpful, but it turns out that the pasta sauce is pre-made with olives already in it, there's a $5 charge for splitting entrees, it's illegal to give one lonely man four shots of rum at once, and the ranch dressing contains a shit ton of gluten. So instead of being helpful I was a liar and when my lies were inevitably discovered the customers would become angry with me. This emotion was reflected in my tips.

So What Do You Say You and I Get Together After Work?
by Pearl
When someone asks you a question like “Do you have a driver's license?” what this means is that you are soon to find yourself in the company of people for whom the answer to this question is “No”.

Bastard Stepdaughter of Zion
by Andie Ryan
There's no way to put this delicately—the rabbi looked like Prince. Yes, Prince. The Minneapolis musician who became an international sensation in the 1980's. The star of Purple Rain . That Prince.

Worst Job EVER
by Aaron Wolfe
Andy was a particular kind of Neanderthal that didn't ever speak in questions. Every word out of his mouth was declarative. The phrase “It is raining outside!” could either be a statement of fact or a question about the current state of the weather. Often the only way to tell was to wait and see how long he'd stare at you after speaking.

Editor's Ramblings

It's official: Praxis's first “call for entries” was a success. We asked for your “Jobs From Hell” stories, and we got them. We've published our favorites in honor of Labor Day, one of the few holidays where you get a day off work without having to buy gifts or attend religious services; truly the best of both worlds. These tales of bad jobs, bad bosses, and bad employees will surely make you laugh, or—at the very least—make you feel better about your own job. In one story, a bartender fends off angry patrons with a sock puppet; in another, a record store employee contends with a puking customer and a blood spattered office. There is the story of a particularly violent day on the job selling Italian Ices, the story of an EMT who has to “handle” a delicate situation, a short-order cook forced to cover for his philandering boss, and more.

And as for those who still have to go to work on this glorious, secular holiday? Go ahead and call in sick. Really, it's okay. Plead car trouble, stomach flu, or (my personal favorite) food poisoning. If you can't call in sick, slack off as much as possible. Go on. You deserve it.

Until next time…read, write, and submit. But not to The Man.

Cheers,

Andie Ryan

Editor

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