6 Answers

  1. Typically: a promoter. And on what only products I did not stand: vitamins in pharmacies (about which I could not connect a word), vodka (the most fun, once a rich buyer gave me vodka) with the words ” Here! This one is better! Know, don't advertise shit!”), mosquito repellents, and much more.

    Now I don't think it's a shame, for the simple reason that I basically worked to provide myself with pocket money and not take it from my parents. This is commendable, not embarrassing. But during the 1-2 course, it was very inconvenient and unpleasant to meet friends and acquaintances who came to the store and saw me in a ridiculous promo form.�

    Therefore, I conclude that there is no bad and shameful work among students. There is nothing to be ashamed of at work if you have free time and lack of fin.facilities. Work, earn money, buy fashion items, go to cafes with friends and discos! 🙂

  2. Once, during a particularly tough period of unemployment and lack of money, after a long and unsuccessful job search, I found myself in a muddy office. It was stated that this organization sells commercial and other equipment, but sales experience is not required. Without really explaining anything, I and another applicant were sent on a study trip with two experienced employees. We arrived in a very remote village, experienced employees took out packages with some kitchen junk (sets of knives, graters, and something else like that) and went around the yards to sell it all. They worked rather clumsily: they announced an advertising campaign with the distribution of branded goods, but one of the goods had to be paid for (usually it was an iron or mixer). The goods were Chinese and of poor quality, from some illiquid warehouse where they were taken for free. Then it was pretty dumb to walk around the farmsteads and watch the whole process.

  3. I've worked various jobs since I was 14, i.e. since high school. Not to say that these positions are shameful, but I think that they are suitable for people who are just in the process of getting an education. The first was the school labor team, where we did absolutely different work: we washed windows, repaired chairs, cleaned old leaves in the garden. Then a job as a waitress at a children's camp. Also not the most pleasant job. They carried dishes and food, cut napkins, bread (by the way, I almost lost my finger on the bread slicer…), washed fruit and cleaned the tables (and children love to pig). Then I was a conductor, also during the summer holidays. Of course, it was not a dirty job, but you had to drive until 11 o'clock in the evening, and often there were not quite adequate drunk men… so, this is also not the best job for a young girl. Well, the crown was the position of a nurse in the intensive care unit (as I entered the medical center). Naturally, many future doctors go through this process… but what I saw there, you can't tell me briefly, the removal of ships, for example, is the most harmless, and the rest is better to keep to yourself)

  4. I didn't work much as a student, and I'm more ashamed of it. True, now I plow like a horse, but that's not what we're talking about. Probably the most shameful thing, I worked in security. This work is unreal thinning of the brain, you sit, watch TV, make rounds and contact the base. This experience discouraged me from working in a private security company.

  5. This was before entering the university. During the summer holidays, I sometimes worked part-time at a stall (which is now being demolished) at a friend's house on the outskirts of the city. She sold snacks and cigarettes. But what was remarkable and especially embarrassing: the stall had regular customers from a nearby drug dispensary, so these guys, let's call them that, came for reinforcements and cheerfulness —a tincture of hawthorn or pepper.

  6. I started my working career in high school. I was 14 years old, and on vacation I went to sell fried cakes. They were fried in the morning in the kitchen of a local restaurant, I put them in a basket and went to the kiosk, located on the central square of our town near Moscow. The pies were of two kinds: most of them with meat, the rest with cabbage. They cost 8-10 kopecks a piece – it was in the USSR. Usually in 2-3 hours I sold out the entire stock. Most of the customers were men, and some of them were trying to get me interested in a date. For some reason, the feeling of greasy eyes remained in my head, the same as the oily surface of my pies. At 14, I was about 170 feet tall, and I could have passed for an adult. And the image of the criminal code didn't pop up in greasy eyes.

    And now in details about the origin of pies. The restaurant where they were cultivated was absolutely Soviet, with fly-speckled tablecloths, dirty walls, and overwhelming waitresses. The cooks were also not from Vogue magazine, so, without suffering from anorexia, they made pies with such speed that some flew out from under their round fingers. After flying the distance required by gravity, they landed on the floor with chipped tiles, which rebelled against the local sanitary and epidemiological station and was washed once a month. On the floor, regardless of external and internal circumstances, cockroaches always moved. By observation, I determined that the trajectory of their movement and the trajectory of the flight of pies never coincide – this work gave me not only commercial experience, but also advanced me in physics. The pie should not be lifted from the floor until it jumps off its own – this is a sign in the restaurant business. After contact with the floor, the pie ended up in a vat of boiling antique oil. But even at this stage, the pies did not find eternal peace. As they formed an oily brown crust, they were pulled out of the vat with a huge colander and dumped on a baking sheet. Not everyone was able to be in a supine state and calmly bleed out unvaccinated oil. Particularly zealous elements flew out of the colander and landed on the floor, covered with corpses of flies, over which cockroaches bravely stepped. Anyway, every piece of pastry ended up in my basket.

    By the way, I not only did not bite into a single pie for a month of work, but I never even licked its hard tip.

    After that summer, I didn't go to any cafes or restaurants for three years.

    Since then, I know that there are no shameful professions. I realized this after standing for hours at the pie counter and watching people scurry back and forth.

Leave a Reply