10 years ago I worked a 40 hour week. I rented a room in my Grandmother's upstairs while attending college only 3 miles from home, but pretending like it was further. I was a District Manager at our county newspaper "managing" 63 paper routes in my territory. I loved & hated that job, begining with a fat paycheck, complete with once a month bonuses. The excitement started with my own desk and company cell phone - this was a huge deal, back when cell phones were huge bulky units with a long cord attached. Most of my carriers were cute little children with neighborhood paper routes. Every day they would come home from school to see their bundle of papers on their door step, they'd roll and bag them up, then take them to their customers. I'd offer them insentives to get new customers, and in turn I would do their routes if they were sick. (This ultimatly lead to my demise)
Another aspect of my position was to collect honor boxes. I'd carry around a bag of "slugs," fake quarters, take out all the old papers and collect the earnings of the week. Dirty, nasty job. Gum and germs were all over the metal units and the money...ew ew ew. Then I would go around to all the stores that carried our newspaper in my district. I'd collect the paper returns and our earnings, leaving them with their profit for selling. I would do this in heals. Carrying a briefcase. At 20 years of age. If I had run into my current self (30 year old mother of 4 carrying a diaper bag wearing cowboy boots...would I have known?) Did I mention the bonuses?
Once I got pulled over in a school zone going around 40. I cried - I was burnt out. College, my job that was too big for me, all I wanted was to keep my boyfriend. The cop noticed (how could he not) that my back seat was full of newspapers - I looked like a crazy cat woman with back seat full of trash - but I had just collected all my returns and honor boxes and was on the way back to the office & recycle center. He didn't believe me. "Honestly, why would I steal -sob- all these papers -sob- officer? I'm sorry I was going to fast and that I don't have my insurance card with me. -sob- But my dad has it because he pays my insurance. Yes, I know I'm 20 and a big girl
-sob- and I should be responsible for my own insurance -sob-."
The next day it was 98 degrees and a great deal of my cute little paper carriers called off sick. Who had to deliver all those papers while those brats were at the pool all afternoon? Me. In heals, carrying a briefcase complete with speeding ticket. It started to rain that afternoon, and while picking up a bundle of papers from a poor sick little 12 year old boy - I could see him smiling at me through the window - I slipped on that green fake grass crap that covered his porch and twisted my ankle. I hobbled to my 1991 white Lumina with the extra 60,000 miles I put on it that past year at my big girl job, and drove myself to the med center. This was my demise. I resigned from my post and I asked for a desk job.