There are worse things I could have become...

So now that my job is eons better then my last one I have gotten a bit more reflective about jobs in general. I've realized that my previous job was not my first truly awful(see previous post) job, nor do I have some unique ability to find amazingly bad jobs because I have found people with much, much worse. Namely a profession aptly named “Bull Fertility Specialist”. This job is exactly what you think it is only much more hands on and involved. The world loves meat and that meat needs to come from somewhere. The people responsible for allowing all of us meat loving, overweight Americans to have such great tasting meat have a very specific way of maintaining product quality…it starts with the ingredients. “Research has shown that a one percent change in reproductive performance will generate up to 3 times more return on investment for cow/calf operators” Yes, ladies and gents it’s the sperm that makes the difference, so only the best sperm will do. Now I swear on everything holy I was clueless on this subject up until the moment the discovery channel completely enlightened me and blew my mind at the same time. Let me paint for you the picture of how this all goes down. Now it was decided at some point that normal bull on cow sex was just not going to cut it in the fast paced meat industry, so “retrieving” the “samples” from the bull and artificially inseminating all the cows with only the best bull product was the only way to go. Now that seems reasonable enough but all reason and logic stops here. You see the way they get these samples is absolute insanity and I swear I am not making this up. A bull is brought into a ring…fifteen of his closest buddies watching, another bull is then brought into the same ring and is lead to the rear of the other bull and mounts the now lowest bull on the totem poll. I have no idea why there are two bulls involved and why there cant be a cow on the bottom but whatever, at this point a Bull Fertility Specialist(BFS) notes that the fifteen bulls watching are “learning what to do and becoming aroused”. So it seems we are all eating meat that essentially comes from gay bulls, interesting. Also, I’d like you to think about the bull being mounted. I’m sure he didn’t volunteer for this, his buddies are watching and are more then amused and your supposed friend is about to completely violate everything you hold dear…wow, that sucks. Anyway, back to my point, here is when the BFS really earns his keep. Just at the moment the bull is mounting the other bull the BFS grabs the main meat of the mounting bull and sticks it into the cup where it dispenses the best and brightest future cows. Let just make sure we are clear on this…he grabs the bulls 2 foot long, 15 pound member so the bull may “produce” in a way that can be later used to make many thousands of cows. Bull Fertility Specialist is really a better way of describing a “big dick grabber”, that is his job, thank god its not mine.

Ugh, I want to vomit after recalling all these painful repressed memories

Lets talk about my first truly awful job...it begins when I walked into and was hired at CHUCK E CHEESE. Now there are shitty jobs and there are fucking really shitty jobs, this was the later. I was 16 needed money, they were hiring and I WAS the mouse, don’t call it a rat, people in the profession know it’s a mouse so you just sound like an ignorant fuck when you say rat so back off. Anyway this mouse job was hilarious once you get past the fact that you will not make any money what-so-ever and you surrender to the notion that you will spend half the day in a smelly used by others sauna of a damn costume. When I wasn't being the mouse, I would do other things much more deserving of my time such as working the Prizes counter where you can cash in your hard earned tickets for absolutely worthless prizes. Alot of times, if I liked the parents, I would match the kids contribution of tickets 10-20 fold...it didn't feel right being the kiddy crack dealer so I felt that made things a bit better. I would waste hours "cleaning" the massive maze of plastic tubing that was a kids dream of a play ground. Or I would hide in the ball play pin just to freak out some unsuspecting 4 year old, long story short I was bored and poorly managed. I was also paid, no lie, 5.75. Yea that’s right I got a twenty-five cent raise the day I was hired because I volunteered to be the go to mouse guy, anyway after my first paycheck I certainly decided the real worth of this job wasn't going to be a monetary one. I tell you what though, it was a little like being a celebrity, or a pedophiles dream job, little kids instantly rush up and want to give you hugs. It was really odd when I first starting being the mouse and people would want to take pictures with me…I would smile...it took me a few outings to realize there was no need to smile. Let me state as a matter of fact that I did not enjoy the job after about 15 mins into the first day of training videos, it sucked. I once got flipped off by a 2 year old, no shit a 2 year old, his finger was half a centimeter high. There is nothing like this to make you question where you are heading in life then a day at work when a 2 year old flips you off, nothing. Its funny when the lazy ass parents have a birthday party for the 8 year old kid and they pick this place. Eight year olds are a pain, they know damn well that the easter bunny is fake, same with the tooth fairy, Santa might still be hanging in there since, well he is a god like figure that will withhold presents if you don't believe. Anyway, you bet your soul these same eight year olds know for a fact chucky isn't real, harassment begins. Spurred on by the phenomenon that is group think(the responsibility of an action is lessened once there are others around, thus the individual feels justified in otherwise unreasonable actions...see: the nazi movement) This harassment only gets worse when the huge gang finishes the pizza party, the now sugar induced, cake fueled, and soda crazed kids are in full on rage and destruction mode. This mode involves a game of trying to kick chucky in the balls, a game I was not a fan of from the beginning and very sick of in about 3 seconds flat. At first I tried to kinda push the problem kids aside and defuse the situation, no such luck. Eventually one of these little fuckers actually got a good kick in, I instinctively grabbed this kid and demonstrated to him how much I was sick of this game, the job, the suit, the smell, his face, and my (not disclosed in the job description) pain in the groin area. Tossing this kid into the nearest collection of chairs felt great, and looking at his face turn from anger to total amazement and disbelief in midair was truly satisfying. Even better was the look on the faces of the remaining gang, it was that jaws dropped, eyes wide open, the world isn't such a nice place, your actions do have consequences sort of realization for these guys...I've made a difference. A comment card came back later that day.."Chucky could be nicer"...mission accomplished.