Estoy Brittany Desu

       In June of 2009, I had graduated high school and was still in the bottom feeder bagger position. After my hints at wanting to become a cashier were tactfully ignored, and my blatant request was convolutedly denied, I decided that I needed a change of scenery. The vacant storefront next to my best friend's tanning salon job had been bought by a Jordanian man who wanted to open up a restaurant. While smoking out front, either the owner or myself suggested that I work there. From that moment on, I didn't realize, I would be his right hand (wo)man in helping him run this restaurant.        I was to be paid $8 an hour under the table in exchange for my soul and all my free time. I consistently worked until 4am, dealing with drunk men constantly. I couldn't even really tell you my job title; I cooked, cleaned, ran the cash register, ran deliveries, distributed advertisements, created a Facebook, and got supplies from GFS and Restaurant Depot....

One of the most bullshit jobs, being a bagger at Kroger is the lowest you can possibly be on the totem pole of grocery store clerks. Minimum wage, obviously. I was the person who fucked up all your groceries by putting them in the bag as they came through, although you were the one who put them on the belt in that order. Secondly, I often had people come through the line with an entire grocery cart filled to the brim, and you'd better believe that it never worked out like it does in Tetris. The cashier was able to work much faster than I was. It takes .001 seconds to scan the item, and a couple seconds to put each item in a bag, during which time I've got to determine the most efficient way possible to do it. This is why, if you've ever wondered why one of your plastic bags contains only a box of pasta and nothing else, that's why. "Just bag it and go", and on to the next one. Ain't nobody got time to play puzzles. Another part of the baggers' job in...

             I was sixteen when I got my first job working for a movie theater in Columbus. My sister worked at a different location, and she, by being an amazing, hilarious person, pretty much guaranteed me the job, even though I was very shy during my interview and had zero job experience. Likely as the result of a meticulous chore system delegated by my mom and fastidious snow-shoveling directed by my dad, I developed a strong, healthy work ethic, as well as a love-hate relationship with authority figures.       I started as a ticket taker, probably the most monotonous job there. "Theatre three, to the left,"  rip.  "Theater eleven, to the right,"  rip. All. Fucking. Night. Could be considered as a means of torture.        Next, I was trained in concessions, my least favorite position at that place. Dealing with mostly fine people, sprinkled with assholes and the opportunity to see a varie...

       My name is Brittany Leigh. I am twenty-seven years old, and I am from Columbus, Ohio.        Since the age of sixteen, I have worked at nineteen different places*. I have had around twenty-six different job titles*. My wages have ranged from minimum wage ($6.85 hourly when I went into the workforce) to a maximum of around $16 per hour*, when I worked in Japan. Most of my jobs have been in the restaurant industry. From ages eighteen to twenty-four, I was also attending college while working. I've received an A.A. and A.S., and a B.A. in Linguistics. I currently have two (technically three) jobs and am living paycheck to paycheck. Now seems like a good time to become a writer, right?        The purpose of this blog series is to provide an insight into the life of a jack of all trades, but a master of none. It is to look into the different challenges and benefits of a variety of job types, a look into the best, the...

I'll add more as they come to me: Streetlight Manifesto Regina Spektor Fiona Apple Rancid Erykah Badu Queen, of course Sufjan Stevens Amy Winehouse Phantogram Ella Fitzgerald Janis Joplin Panic! At the Disco Death Cab Foo Fighters Nirvana Dave Grohl in general Florence and the Machine Courtney Barnett Bright Eyes Rage Against the Machine

The days seem to pass too quickly, while simultaneously they seem to drag on. There are 168 hours in each week. Forty to sixty hours are spent, wasted, given, sacrificed, all for an hourly wage. Another forty to sixty hours are allocated to the unfortunately necessary but ultimately wonderful sleep. Surprisingly, there are still fifty to ninety hours remaining! How is this possible? It certainly does not seem to be accurate. My days are structured along a semi-regular schedule: 6:00. Wake up, get ready for, and drive to work. 7:00 to 15:30. Work. 15:30 to 17:30. Drive home, eat, play guitar, entertain cat, drive to other job. 17:30 to 20:30. Work, again. 20:30 to 23:00. Drive home, play guitar again, eat, shower, read, sleep. There are days that do not have to go to that second job. Sometimes, I do not know what to do with myself because I am not used to that freedom, so I just waste it. Often I will waste it trying to find a different job, a different apartment, how to get i...