What I've Done?

I worked as a boy-packer at Coles Supermarket, in a far off suburb, which my mother got for me, when I was still at school. I worked long shifts, 9 to 9 over the holidays. I thought it was grand.
I worked at Coles, closer to home, where I learned that people steal merchandise from their place of employment. We were called into the office to have it explained to us. I learned that they get caught and the police are called. I learned that they get sacked. Just like that.
I worked as a store man for my father’s faculty. There was nothing for me to do, but if I didn't fill the position their funding would have been cut. I used the time to do my homework. Paid to do homework, now that can’t be bad.
I worked for a bank between failing year 12 and repeating year 12. I found that bank managers were not to my liking; fat, single-minded, relics from some forgotten era. Me and my friend Jackie, resigned the day that another staff member resigned, just to give the old bank manager the shits. We thought we were very clever.
I worked for a hardware shop, in my uni days. I had no idea about hardware, but it was a friend of the family who got me the job and I learned fast. I’m not sure, however, if I was ever really cut out for it, I couldn't saw a straight line and I couldn't hammer a nail. One old cobber surprised me with his answer when I told him the cost of four litres of paint.
“Jesus fuck me Christ the cunts are expensive, aren't they?”
This private school boy from the eastern suburbs didn't really know how to respond to that.

I worked for a corporate bank in a very grand, just renovated, building in the city. The building was the reason I accepted the job, to tell you the truth. I wanted to travel overseas, so I wanted to work just for a time, to top up my spending money. They promoted me 3 times in 8 months and then they tried to talk me into staying when it came time to leave. They seemed genuinely pissed off when I walked out the door, despite the fact I was employed on a temporary basis.
I got implicated in a bank robbery, for my time at the corporate bank, but that is a long story involving Interpol, which can wait to be told for another time.
I worked for an entertainment company, upon my return. I was sent all over the state, as I was considered the “single” manager. I was caught up in some serious misconduct, which I had no idea of when I was accused. I had no idea what they were talking about. As it turned out, the serious misconduct was the work of a much more senior manager than I was, at the time. After he admitted fault, I got an apology, of sorts. Yes, I would call the apology inadequate, but that was as apologetic as they were ever going to be, so the 2IC explained to me. As a consequence, when I asked for 6 months leave, a short time later and they explained to me that they needed me on board and not traipsing around Italy and Greece, they declined my request and I had no hesitation in giving in my notice. I think they were a little surprised.
I worked for a family company, 2 years later when I came back to Oz. They said they needed me, I accepted reluctantly. I learned never to work for family owned companies. Those closest to me were far more poisonous than any of those mentioned above.
I did consulting work for a year, or so. I loved going into different companies and righting the wrongs. I loved the fact that I didn't have to get to know anyone and could walk out at the end of the day without a care. But the work couldn't be relied upon and it was often interspersed with weeks of no pay.
I worked for a communications company, where, on Monday morning, the boss' mood depended on how much cocaine he had done the two days previously. We used to have big, company parties, always on a week night, where the boss would encourage all of us to play-up as much as we could. He'd always be the last man standing. And anyone who didn't make it into the office the following day was threatened with the sack.

I worked for my first law firm and I loved it so. The fact that it was housed in one of the cities finest office buildings didn't hurt. But then they nationalised my role and my department moved north to be run out of the Emerald City. We’d love you to move to Sydney, in fact, if you do we’ll pay you this much more. I declined, Sydneysiders being how they are.
I now work for my second law firm, in the drab end of town. It’s a miserable company to work for; never before have I met a more unhappy bunch of people. But they pay me well to stay and they think I’m pretty good. Some days, I don’t think the ulcers are worth it. Most days, I know the ulcers aren't worth it.
I dream of giving it up and writing. Of course, there is the mortgage and the little matter of puting food on the table. But, what the heck? I've come to the conclusion that most of the work force aren't my kind of people anyway.