Child labour or sweetest job ever?
During my adolescence I worked in my local garage which was adjacent to the high school and across the road from the cop shop. There were only two four-hour shifts a week, both timed to coincide with the car auctions at the other end of town. All I had to do was wait till a driver turned up and pump petrol for them, occasionally checking oil and tyres, selling light bulbs, that kind of thing. My pay? £5 per shift. £1.25 per hour. For a 17 year old.

Sounds like utter abuse but, devious little grunge kid that I was, I found a way to get revenge and make the best out of the situation, on the Friday night shift at least. Booze. Booze and friends. And music. And some pot. But mostly booze. Essentially I turned that place into the top underage drinking spot in town - a couple of friends would turn up after the boss left (about 6:30), would nip down to the shop with some cash from the till and return with whisky and beer. Good times and chaos inevtably ensued.

Memorable incidents include: filling matchbox cars with meths, lighting them and racing them along the counter; having the forecourt so full of young chums that cars couldn't get in; nearly destroying the place when Kurt Cobain died; and collapsing in front of a (thankfully sound) customer after a blowback from a local character. All right under the cops noses :-)

Never got fired either but they did stop leaving the sweets, crisps and drinks out when I was working. The boss was an incurable alky and his wife was an evil whore from hell, known simply as 'the bitch', so I never felt guilty.
(pumpkinbug, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 13:35, Reply)