Part-Time Job Stories: The Factory Job

Knowing I was short of cash I popped into the local jobs agency as the sign outside read 'Jobs in abundance, Come In, Have a Job', nowhere did it read that the job would be one of the worst experiences of my life, that still gives me nightmares. Inside the  agnecy people were cool and friendly and that was the best part of the job, but they weren't the factory bosses, they just arrange the shifts and the pay packet at the end of the week.

After a brief discussion with agency guy he asked if I minded working the nightshift, foolishly, and I still don't know why, I replied 'yes, no problem'. Maybe I wanted the job at all costs, but it sure wasn't to get more money as it was, a flat rate for all shifts, a paltry £3 an hour.

So I was told my first shifts would be in a plastics factory, over the Easter Holiday, from 10pm to 8am, and that's where all the fun started. Arriving the first night I walked into an awful sweatshop environment to be treated with the biggest amount of disdain by the boss and workers. I was good 10 years younger than everybody else and they all loathed people my age, I could tell, it wasn't hard, they made it perfectly clear.

The overhead speakers were blaring Hardcore Rave, which sounded incredibly sinister amongst the surroundings. I designated a plastics machine and told to trim the excess plastic off brochure holders for 9 hours a night, with one 15 minute break and a 45 minute lunch break at 3am in the morning, work that one out, your body clock never will. One lunch break I walked into the break room and it was dark, the light was off. One of the guys who worked there was in the corner with his eyes open, I asked if I could turn the lights on. He barked 'NO, LEAVE THEM OFF', so then I sat and ate in the dark. Then he told me to 'STOP MAKING THAT NOISE' or 'GET OUT'. That was one of the longest 45 minutes of my life.

I lasted two weeks, well I had to go back to school, but I went back, for my sins, during the summer holidays but this time on the day shift, I really did need the money. Summer was worse as while most people were having fun I was nearly dying in temperatures of around 120 degrees Fahrenheit. This coupled with the physical injury I endured made life pretty uncomfortable. This was mainly from shifting stuff around, getting cuts, bruises and scrapes but my main torture was from the scolding glue gun which I used to put boxes together. NEVER, NEVER, EVER burn yourself on it, the pain nearly makes you pass out and then you have to peel the glue off along with most of the skin underneath it.

Something happen though that really made me take action, late at the end of a shift my machine broke down. I asked one of the engineers to fix it, lets just call this guy Barry. He did not take the news too well and responded by battering my machine with a spanner, while uttering every swear word under sun, and all the solar system, while he was at it. When I suggested that it might not be doing the machine any good I thought I was next in line for the spanner treatment.

After this I asked for a new place to work, I got it and it was great, little and easy work, few and friendly staff, drinking tea all day and nobody with severe psychiatric illnesses, but then it doesn't make for as good a story.

- The Pupiline Team