My Worst Job

You can tell that I am playing “catch up” on my blogging, but I thought you might find this blog interesting. It’s an excerpt from a story called “My Worst Job”.

“A question was posed recently to me of what was my worst job. Thankfully I have only had one job that qualified, so I didn’t have to search the dark recesses of my mind to recall it. I remember it vividly, and each summer in St. Louis, when the temperature reaches 100 degrees, and its 90% humidity.

So my worst job was working on what was affectionately and appropriately called the “brush truck” for the City of Brady, Texas. It was my summer job, when I was 15, a job my brother, 16, declined after getting a better offer from the glass and sand plant. My grandmother woke me up the morning of what was supposed to be my older brother’s first day working on the brush truck, and said “…git cha lazy butt up, in go git chself dat chob, mistaman”! Ok so my grandmother wasn’t Jamaican, but she did make me take the job. It didn’t matter that it was illegal for me to work at age 15! This little thing call law would not interfere with my granny’s plan to ‘build my character’, as she put it. Such are the perks of being part of a prominent family in a small town.”

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