2001: I was working several jobs, trying to raise money for my trip to South America, so I had an unusual daily routine.
Get up around 4am, then my dad would drive me to the post office sorting office where I was working sorting pre-Christmas post from 5am to 1pm. This varied between mind-numbing standing by the conveyor belts sorting letters into first class and second class (the only occasional distraction was a postcard which everyone passed round to read. The best one was a woman complaining that her daughter dropped their parrot down the toilet.) and actual manual labour lugging huge bales of junk mail magazines off the lorries and onto metal trollies. Sometimes you'd get the light relief of hurling parcels across the package room. Even if they said 'fragile' or 'warning chemical substances' and were leaking, that still got thrown around. At least the canteen did a decent and cheap breakfast when we had our break at 10am. The warehouse radio mainly played Kylie Minogue's 'can't get you out of my head' on loop very loudly.
After that shift, I would get the bus into town, go to Sainsbury's and complete my daily challenge of buying myself lunch for under £1 (favourite combo was a banana for 10p and a tin of kiddy cartoon shape spaghetti hoops for 25p. I was semi-anorexic, tiny and skint). Then, I went to the local branch of Waterstones, up to the second floor where there was a sofa in the kids area, lay down under my coat, set the alarm on my phone for one hour's time and fell asleep. I did this every weekday for about six months and I was only woken up once by a member of staff who asked if I was ok, and I just said 'I'm fine thanks' and went back to sleep.
After the alarm went off, I got another bus to my second job, which was working at an after-school playscheme between 3 and 6pm. There was a little five year old boy who arrived every day, threw down his school bag, ran straight to the dressing up area, put on a skirt, a straw hat and a red handbag, and then gave me lectures about the origins of black holes. I often had to be responsible for another little boy who wore a safety helmet the whole time because he fitted most days. I had to put him in the recovery position when he did, mop up his blood, comfort him when he woke up disorientated. I was in no way adequately trained for this (I was 19).
Once all the kids had been collected by their parents, I cleaned up, did the washing up, then got another bus to my third job. This was door-to-door marketing for a water charity. I drove a big blue van around the villages, filled with water bottles and knocked on every door in a specified street, 7-9pm. I handed out free bottles of water and got people to complete a questionnaire about their water drinking habits. It was all nonsense, the only purpose was to get people's phone numbers so the real salespeople could phone them later. It amazed me how many people didn't slam the door in my face. Old people would answer the door saying 'my children tell me not to answer the door to strangers, but you look sweet' and I felt like telling them they should really listen to their children. I gave that job up after a few months because it started getting dark in the evenings and I didn't feel so safe knocking on strangers' doors.
I would get the bus home, arrive around 10pm, pass out often fully clothed, rinse and repeat.
Get up around 4am, then my dad would drive me to the post office sorting office where I was working sorting pre-Christmas post from 5am to 1pm. This varied between mind-numbing standing by the conveyor belts sorting letters into first class and second class (the only occasional distraction was a postcard which everyone passed round to read. The best one was a woman complaining that her daughter dropped their parrot down the toilet.) and actual manual labour lugging huge bales of junk mail magazines off the lorries and onto metal trollies. Sometimes you'd get the light relief of hurling parcels across the package room. Even if they said 'fragile' or 'warning chemical substances' and were leaking, that still got thrown around. At least the canteen did a decent and cheap breakfast when we had our break at 10am. The warehouse radio mainly played Kylie Minogue's 'can't get you out of my head' on loop very loudly.
After that shift, I would get the bus into town, go to Sainsbury's and complete my daily challenge of buying myself lunch for under £1 (favourite combo was a banana for 10p and a tin of kiddy cartoon shape spaghetti hoops for 25p. I was semi-anorexic, tiny and skint). Then, I went to the local branch of Waterstones, up to the second floor where there was a sofa in the kids area, lay down under my coat, set the alarm on my phone for one hour's time and fell asleep. I did this every weekday for about six months and I was only woken up once by a member of staff who asked if I was ok, and I just said 'I'm fine thanks' and went back to sleep.
After the alarm went off, I got another bus to my second job, which was working at an after-school playscheme between 3 and 6pm. There was a little five year old boy who arrived every day, threw down his school bag, ran straight to the dressing up area, put on a skirt, a straw hat and a red handbag, and then gave me lectures about the origins of black holes. I often had to be responsible for another little boy who wore a safety helmet the whole time because he fitted most days. I had to put him in the recovery position when he did, mop up his blood, comfort him when he woke up disorientated. I was in no way adequately trained for this (I was 19).
Once all the kids had been collected by their parents, I cleaned up, did the washing up, then got another bus to my third job. This was door-to-door marketing for a water charity. I drove a big blue van around the villages, filled with water bottles and knocked on every door in a specified street, 7-9pm. I handed out free bottles of water and got people to complete a questionnaire about their water drinking habits. It was all nonsense, the only purpose was to get people's phone numbers so the real salespeople could phone them later. It amazed me how many people didn't slam the door in my face. Old people would answer the door saying 'my children tell me not to answer the door to strangers, but you look sweet' and I felt like telling them they should really listen to their children. I gave that job up after a few months because it started getting dark in the evenings and I didn't feel so safe knocking on strangers' doors.
I would get the bus home, arrive around 10pm, pass out often fully clothed, rinse and repeat.
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