#my first job

[leonelmolinari]

I literally sold fried cakes to my aunt lmao

(le vendi torta frita a mi tia ajjajasjasjjas, mi primera chamba gente)

[jesseisstuckinside]

I got laid off my job a week after starting

[bingotime]

i do not wanna keep jobposting, its annoying i know. just trying not to cry i think. am not sure why they put me on register despite the fact that its the thing i dread the most. like ive told them register is the one thing i cant do. some dude yelled at me cuz he didnt have his id and i wouldnt give em cigarettes yk. and the line was piling and he idk?? bro left before he could pay for his coffee, and he came back angry that he couldnt get his coffee. like. dudr you left. you didnt pay. i just kind of floundered. i dont like doing register. dont even feel like eating or drinking on break, i feel like im on fire. i feel stupid

[bloodcanbehot]

I’m alive (barely)

[ilovetheater24601]

I just got offered one of my dream jobs!!!!!

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[soapyprincess]

[tayliii]

having old parents sucks while everyones parents are in their forties or atleast fifties mine are in their sixties why cant i have more time with them. sometimes i dont wanna grow up in fear that they will grow old with me, i am already grieveing a future that has yet to happen.

[wolfkat]

[don-the-death-collector]

Teresa (and Lucky)

To give you an idea of what my job entails, I'll start with my very first job and the secrets that came with it.

It started small. I handed out a makeshift business card that wasn't even laminated to the funeral home that had taken care of my father after I explained my plan to the owner. He was surprisingly supportive. I still appreciate that support to this day, where I still get customers that Anthony had sent my way with a glowing recommendation. I emphasized that I don't do crime scenes, that I can do hoarding cases, and a general overview of my services.

It was definitely a surprise when I got my first client the next week.

The caller was a sweet but anxious girl, barely 18, who had been saddled with her mother's estate with no grandparents or siblings who could help her. The poor thing seemed like she was jumping from thought to thought and emotion to emotion throughout the whole call. At one moment she would be crying and sharing her regret that they hadn't been close and the next she would be cursing up a storm over the fact that her mother had had "one last fuck you" by making her daughter take care of all of her belongings. I let her go without interrupting aside from some gentle validation when she seemed to need it. Eventually she asked me if she could come to my office and fill out a form for the apartment to be cleared out.

I...I hadn't thought that far yet.

I didn't have an office. I didn't even have any forms. So I made a rough one up in the middle of the night and asked Anthony if I could use one of his conference rooms (for lack of a better name) to meet her in. Again, he agreed. God, the more I think of those early days the more I realize I owe him big time for all his help. But that's beside the point. The next day she met me at the funeral home after another call about the meeting place and we discussed what she wanted.

Here's a rough approximation of what my sleep deprived brain came up with in the middle of the night:

*Consent Form for Services Rendered*

1. I, _______________________, hereby give Don**** ****** permission to enter the home of the deceased, __________________, based on my authority as next of kin, administrator, or executor of their estate.

2. In terms of furniture, I would like to keep the following furniture

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be donated or disposed of.

3. In terms of personal belongings, I would like to keep the following items

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be donated or disposed of.

4. In terms of sentimental belongings (ex: photos, notebooks, letters, etc.) I would like to keep the following items

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

And the rest may be disposed of.

If there is any uncertainty about what should be done with _____________________'s belongings, I can be reached at _________________________.

I have understood the information provided to me and agree to the discussed price of $________________ based on labor and size of living space in sq. feet.

Signature and Printed Name: _________________________________________________________________________

The form was...rough to say the least. But it got the job done and I honestly haven't had to change it much over the years. I told her the baseline price I was charging per square foot and the added price per hour of labor and she agreed without a second thought. Clearly wanted to be free of the task, and I didn't blame her.

Although the first day of this job was light, it was a good tone setter for my work moving forward.

Bright and early the next day I set off for the address I was given with a sense of nervous excitement. This was the first day of a potential career, one that didn't involve retail work 5 days/week, and if it worked out I was confident I could support myself doing this instead. I'd done some research on the prices using what similar services I found and if I did well then...well, then I would have a better life. Even if it was dealing with a lot of death. When I pulled up, I wasn't really sure what to think.

On first glance the apartment looked normal. Nice even. But the more you looked at it the more you noticed the odd details. Newspaper over one of the windows. A crack in another. What looked like scratches around the doorknob. The feeling around it was odd too. I'd come to know that this was just the feeling of going into a house you know has no resident any longer, but at the time, I was just kind of freaked out. Regardless though, I had to go in. I already had my gameplan. First clearing out all the trash, then the small stuff like paperwork, then the appliances and such, then the furniture. Being prepared like that always calmed my nerves in new situations, and it certainly did that here as I unlocked the door, took a breath, and went in.

It was...disgusting in there. More flies than I would have imagined, and the smell was...god, it was horrible. Rotting food, cigarette smoke, cat pee, and-

Cat pee?

I racked my brain for a second about the meeting. I was sure I brought up pets, it's something I usually do for small talk and to make me and the other person comfortable. She said she didn't have any, that her own rental agreement didn't allow it, and that I wouldn't need to worry about letting any out when I went to this apartment.

Then why was there cat pee?

I put on a mask I had in the backpack for the cleaning part of the job to help dull the smell and started investigating. If there was an animal in the home, that was my first priority. Cans of food in trash. A single squeaky mouse. An overfull and filthy litterbox, and a bathroom mat that seemed to have substituted in the meantime. I started calling, making awkward kissing noises, and after several minutes received the most pitiful meow I had ever heard from the living room. I laid myself as flat as I was willing to on the filthy carpet to look under the couch and met eyes with a thin, scruffy-furred black cat with the widest yellow eyes I had ever seen.

"Hey there, little guy," I cooed, trying to coax him out.

The cat hissed and tried to make himself smaller and scoot as far from me as possible. I frowned and pushed myself up to look around the kitchen for any food that wasn't rotten (or ideally that was legitimate cat food), and was fortunate to find a can of wet food that had been knocked over behind a few expired cans of corn.

"You hungry?" I asked, trying and failing to find a clean plate, with there being some evidence that these had been what the woman was using for the cat's food.

At the rustling in the kitchen the cat had poked his head out ever so slightly from the couch, revealing a small black nose and light whiskers. It made a little chirping noise that at the time I didn't understand, having been raised with dogs all my life, and when I set the can down he wasted no time running at it and eating so fast that I was worried he would hurt himself on the can. I might as well have left for all the care he had towards me as he devoured his food, and as I watched him I noticed the poor thing's ribs showing.

"How long were you here alone...?" I asked him, mortified.

Even if he could answer I don't think he would have, he was clearly very busy making up for lost meals. I let him be as I stepped away to call the client. After a few rings she answered, sounding confused.

"Hello?"

"Hi Amy, it's Don. You have a sec?"

There was some muffled shuffling as she moved to a different area, signaled by a door shutting. "Um, sure, what's wrong? There wasn't anything I wanted aside from valuables or cash."

"There's...uh...there's a cat here."

Silence for a moment. "What?"

"A cat. It looks like your mom had a cat."

A longer moment. "...Just...bring it to the shelter."

"I know you can't have one based on our conversation, but maybe a friend or-"

"Just get rid of it. I don't care where it goes. I don't want it. I don't want to see it."

There was something almost desperate in her voice, and it kept me from arguing. The tone told me I probably didn't want to know why she was so against this poor animal. I looked to him as I answered, gently, "...since you don't care where it goes, could I have him?"

She seemed taken aback for the briefest of moments before answering quickly, "Yes, if you could. Please. I'm sure you'll have a better home than that one."

"Yeah...Yeah I definitely do."

"Good. Then, is there anything else?"

"No miss, nothing else. I'll let you know if I find any valuables or cash."

"...Thank you, Don."

I hung up and looked at the cat as he scratched at the now empty can, hoping he had missed something. At least I'd have some company while I finished the first part of the job, and when I went home I'd see what I'd signed up for. I still don't know why I volunteered myself at that moment. Something about that cat...I felt for him. Maybe saw something in him that called out to me. Or, of course, I could just be romanticizing things after the fact. Either way, now that he had some food in him and knew I was the one that gave it to him he followed me around as I got out the box of garbage bags and a pair of gloves and started piling handful after handful of garbage into bag after bag. Expired cans of food. Rotten meat that had been in the fridge for god knows how long. Plates so caked with mystery food and mold that it was easier to throw them away than try to clean them up to donate. Several full ashtrays. A few handfuls of used tissues. Several TV guides from over a decade prior. A...um...adult item that I was thankful I was throwing out instead of that poor girl. Little by little the floors and surfaces were exposed, my new buddy sitting and watching me or meowing at anything resembling a can. He seemed particularly confused by the ashtrays since they were roughly the size of the can of cat food and were clearly being emptied into the bags, and at one point even growled when I refused to set it down for him.

By the time the garbage alone was done, it was dusk. A whole day just cleaning out all the trash, and more garbage bags than I had been prepared to deal with on my first job. In the future I would always rent out a dumpster as a precaution, but this time, I would have to take a few bags with me each time I left the house. I still remember the smell and how it didn't leave my car for days. But the cat got in no problem. Even let me carry him out after I'd gotten the last bag, and sat in that seat just like the German Shepard I'd grown up with.

I named him Lucky.

I went back to the house the next day while Lucky was asleep in what used to be the bed for my aunt's Boston terrier (I really appreciate how quick she brought it once I said what happened). My goal that day was simple enough: pack up anything that wasn't an appliance or furniture and divide the donatable from more trash. I didn't know it then, but this would end up being my favorite part of the job. This was when you start finding the real secrets.

At first things were simple enough. I hadn't thrown out any legible papers in case there was something on them that Amy would need for the estate side of things, so I started there. Some of it was boring of course: half-finished to-do lists, numbers for god knows who scribbled on junk mail or old bills, doodles of varying quality. If I remember right my favorite thing in those categories was a really abstract looking drawing of a chicken. But there were a few little gems already peaking through in this pile.

On a piece of paper labelled "The New World Testament" there was an odd series of symbols or numbers. The symbols varied from what looked like meaningless jumbles of lines to small shapes to vaguely religious ones like a cross with a halo or a star with wings. It clearly had some value since it had been kept safe from the mess left on the kitchen table, but whatever it was had been lost on me. The lines of numbers and symbols were in clearly defined paragraphs and sequences, and I probably spent way to long trying my hand at code breaking before giving up and moving on, setting the paper aside. On the same table was a bible with dog-eared pages, a lot of them in the "book of revelations" or the old testament. I wasn't exactly the religious sort but I'd been raised Catholic and recognized bits and pieces. That got set aside too.

When I moved on to the bedroom, the possibly useful separated from the less than helpful in a recycling bag, it was what I'll affectionately refer to as "haunting" sensation. Bedrooms are the best place for secrets and the worst place for peace of mind in a job like mine. Too easy to get a sense of the person whose life you're clearing away. A Snoopy stuffed animal. A few crosswords and word searches. The sizeable cluster of pills on the other hand was at least more "detective work" than "graverobbing" for me. They were mostly the same kind aside from some almost empty bottles of Olanzapine. Multivitamins, Metformin, and Vitamin D pill bottles were emptied and sometimes on their side, as if grabbed haphazardly. The several bottles of Risperidone, however, seemed untouched. Since there are regulations on medications that make disposing of them a bit harder I counted the pills left in the bottles that weren't empty, and while there as only one bottle of Olanzapine with more than a pill or two, there was either the same number or none at all missing from the Risperidone. No idea what they were for at the time, didn't think it was right to look it up.

Another chunk of time taken up with the personal bits passed before I found anything that caught my curiosity, As I mentioned I try not to worry about appliances until later, but sometimes the smaller ones get gathered during the hunting bit. One of these was an old radio/cassette player that I was shocked still worked when I tested it, and when I opened the cassette deck to see if there were any tapes in it there was instead almost a dozen thinly folded notes stuffed inside that nearly popped out once it was opened.

I mean, who could blame me for focusing on that instead?

I unfolded the one at the back of the pile, hoping it was the oldest, and started to read.

It's been four days since God blessed me by speaking to me again.

I missed him so much, I thought he had abandoned his most faithful servant. But it was the poison those madmen gave me that did it. They tried to cut me off from our Lord and keep me from preventing the end times. Agents of the devil, that's all they are. But I forgive them. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those that trespass against us. Though they lost their way, I will not.

He told me today to begin transcribing his teachings into the language of angels, and I decided to also log the journey for myself for the future disciples to see how I struggled in the name of our Lord.

I will not fail you.

I frowned and looked back at the bible and the paper filled with code on the table, wondering what these "teachings" were, before grabbing another. As I did I jumped as the radio crackled to life a moment and uttered a few garbled words before going quiet again.

"I...must have hit the button..." was all I could think to say to reassure myself as I continued.

The agents of the devil have realized my mission.

I've seen them at the window of my room, trying to listen in to the teachings of the Lord. They want to stop me. They want to sever my connection with Him again. They want the Antichrist to rise unopposed.

They won't falter me! They can't have my soul!

He told me how to protect his words and his teachings from prying eyes. I will bombard them with the false news of the false idols, plaster it to distract them, and protect our future salvation.

Lord protect your faithful servant, and trust that I will follow your will.

False news of false idols? What the hell did that mean? As I looked at the windows I finally noticed that they were covered with newspapers the same way one of the windows in the front had been. I got up for a second and looked to see which of those front windows had been covered and realized it was directly behind one of the kitchen chairs. I couldn't remember if that chair had been the one where the code and the bible had originally been sitting, but it was likely a safe bet considering what I'd read.

I sat back down and grabbed another, and was again interrupted by the radio crackling to life, this time somewhat intelligible.

"...protect his children from..."

I leaned in a bit, wondering if maybe it was some kind of religious broadcast that was feeding into these notes.

"...the Lord shields you from the devil's gaze..."

There was a loud smacking noise at one of the windows and I let out what I'm sure could have been mistaken for a little girl's scream. In the subsequent scramble to my feet I knocked over the radio and it again fell silent.

Worried that a bird had hit the window I put the note I was still holding in my pocket and headed outside to investigate. No bird, thankfully, but I almost wish there had been. Because on this side of the glass was the clear smudge of a hand and a slight crack that hadn't been there before.

Then again, it's not like there wasn't a broken window on the front side of the house. Maybe a kid had noticed someone was in the house and decided to mess with them. I frowned at the thought. If it was then they certainly hadn't helped this poor woman's mental health with their bullshit.

With one more lap around the house just in case I returned to the woman's room to keep reading.

I have decided to keep my logs within the vessel of the Lord to further protect them from the prying eyes of the devil's servants.

They cannot open the vessel. I have blessed it with the Lord's guidance.

As I have listened to His teachings I was told to begin collecting animals, as the world would be bathed in cleansing fire much like the flood of old and need to be reborn anew. I have been busy with my work but the Lord has helped me in this task by sending me one of his children. The creature has no name, as I'm only housing him for the new world, but I care for him as I would my own in the name of His glory.

I am your faithful servant, Lord. I follow your word to the letter.

So, that's why Amy didn't know about the cat. He must have been a stray that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ended up entangled in whatever this woman had believed. As for "the vessel", I could only assume she meant the radio, after all that was where the notes had been.

As if on cue the thing crackled to life a third time, scaring me a bit less this time around, and it was even clearer than before.

"As the time of reckoning approaches, heed the signs of the devil's work. He will try to tempt you, as he once tempted Eve, and will slowly drag you to hell with him and away from the healing light of the Lord. Do not be tempted my child. Heed the signs, and do not walk the path of sin. Do not eat the apple a second time."

Something about the words made me feel a bit ill. Those radio pastors sure have a way with their fire and brimstone talk. He had an undeniable charisma that made it feel as if he were speaking to me personally rather than who knows how many listeners. As it died again, I promised myself I'd change the station if it came back on.

I have received another blessing. I no longer need to sleep, and as His son before me I am no longer tempted by simple food and water. I can focus on my work. The end is coming. I must stop it.

I must save Amy.

For some reason, at that moment, all hell broke loose. The radio kicked on at what had to have been its max volume with something between a screech and deafening static as the windows shook from the impacts on them from outside, a few pictures falling off of the wall they shared. I clamped my hands over my ears, overwhelmed by the noise and my racing heart. God, maybe this woman had been on to something, because it sure as hell felt like the world was ending in that moment.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. I removed my hands shakily to check the radio, terrified of the idea of it making that horrible noise again. One of the notes that had still been in the tape deck was somewhat singed, presumably by the electricity that surged through the radio, and another had actually been burned through where it had made contact with the inner workings, making it impossible to read.

When I checked the photos for what fell, the two of the five that had were of a young girl I assumed to be Amy.

I stopped at that note. That was enough to tell me that these were not something Amy needed to see, not that the earlier ones had done some convincing already. I carefully folded each note and put it back in the radio before considering the thing. I could just throw it out of course along with the now meaningless "teachings" and the bible verses that inspired them, but...it felt wrong. In her last days this poor woman was lost in her frantic quest to serve God and save her daughter, and if I threw these things away then all that pain would be for nothing. At least, that's how I felt about it.

God, thinking about my decision after all that makes me sound like I was asking for a poltergeist or a ghost or something.

But kept it. I kept the radio, the notes, the code, and the bible. As I finished the rest of the job and gave Amy the paperwork she hadn't known she needed as a first timer, I settled these items in my home along with Lucky and, out of respect, made a label for the radio that had the woman's name on it: "Teresa". I would keep this habit with future finds, labeling things with the names of the dead who owned them, and it's become a kind of ritual to show these people respect as I hold on to their secrets.

It still kicks on now and again, but it hasn't screeched at me or destroyed any of the notes as far as I can tell since that day. Every time it does I try to change the channel, but the damn thing won't let me. It's usually a few snippets from the radio pastor but every once in a while there's a woman with a gentle voice talking about forgiveness and the Lord's kindness. It's only happened 2 or 3 times where it was that voice, but I definitely prefer it.

I hope in some small way that taking in Lucky and saving the last things she had ever cared about helped Teresa feel at peace. I hope helping Amy helped her feel at peace.

Secrets like these are actually more common than I'd have expected going into this, so in a way I'm glad that my first job was for someone who had struggles like this. It helped me appreciate what people in these situations really go through, and I think I'm a kinder person for it. And I hope I gave Teresa's story the respect it deserves. My first case. My first secrets. My first taste of the unexplained.

God, that ended up being a lot longer than I thought! It feels better to talk about these than I expected. Friends and family don't exactly want to hear about a job like mine more than the bare minimum, and this is the first time I've felt like I can share some of my finds without risking someone discovering who the secrets I've collected are from. Thinking of who to talk about next though is surprisingly hard. Each case has it's own charms, for lack of a better word, and some I still can't really explain. Hell, I've had to call the cops for a few. I guess for anyone who wants to hear more just give me a name or a question about the job and I'll keep sharing.

In the meantime, you all take care of yourselves, alright?

Maybe I'll try to finish these old notes while I wait.

[sagereidxx]

i LOVE working at a snowball stand :p

[mirrorama]

estimate! and say you currently still work at your first job, just choose how long you’ve been employed. i also understand there might be some nuance as far as maybe like promotions/transfers/etc etc etc, so feel free to explain things in the tags!

[sandyhibbard]

Scoops of Laughter: My First Job at Braum's Ice Cream Store

Scoops of Laughter: My First Job at Braum’s Ice Cream Store   What snack would you eat right now? I had to get hungry today before I could answer this question properly. What snack would I love to have right now? I think it would have to be a Brahms Ice Cream double-dip hot fudge sundae, nuts with extra fudge. Always my classic goto. It’s been ages since I’ve had one. As I’ve gotten older,…

[pixlatedvampire]

It’s best to introduce your Hag slowly through the door first to not scare the others

[snarkspawn]

little doodle of bellara with her hair down

[siyaazu]

True pacifist ending.