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Worst Day On A Job: The Wrong Kind of Stoned

Updated: Oct 9, 2018

It's hard to top a job where you get paid to evaluate strains, so we thought we'd take it the other direction: Here's our team's Worst Day On A Job stories


By Kyler Vaillancourt

Imagine a tall, gangly, pale teen, whose aesthetic most closely resembled “hospital patient chic” rather than “debonair lumberjack realness”. Now imagine the most labour-intensive outdoor job that one could do for minimum wage. Somehow, in the summer of 2008, the stars came nowhere close to aligning and I took a job as a masonry labourer – the worst job ever.

For those lucky folks unfamiliar with the masonry world, a labourer’s responsibility is cutting rocks and then hauling them up scaffolding for the mason to place on a building. The fun isn’t limited to hauling and cutting though, I also got to mix, lift, push and cry! Besides giving me a renewed sense of motivation to complete my post-secondary education, the only other job perk was a “zero-fucks” mentality toward my appearance:

- Wear the same thing every day? Sure!

- Helmet hair? No prob!

- Morning shower? Optional!

It really was the wild, wild west of fashion. Who knew straight men could wear so many different patterns in one day?

Since my contribution to watercooler conversation was limited, due to my lack of knowledge in popular conversation topics like, “check out her boobs” and “how ‘bout them sports,” I found my mind drifting to what it must have been like to work on other big masonry projects, like Notre Dame in Paris, or the Pyramids of Giza. I guess I didn’t have it so bad by comparison.

Of course, my tolerance to this job varied day-to-day and one day in particular stands out in my mind as a rather scarring experience – literally speaking. With the monotonous routine of my rock-filled day winding down, I grew careless and dropped a rock while passing it overhead to a colleague. The rock’s sharp edge jabbed into my thigh, beginning a warm flow of blood down my leg.

Would the paramedics get to me before I bled out? Would they need to amputate? Would I ever walk again? Amidst all the chaos and horror, the clouds began to part and I saw the silver lining: a WSIB sponsored summer.

In the end, a Band-Aid was all that was needed… and maybe an Oscar nomination, but true artists rarely get the recognition they deserve.

Each night after work, I’d get home and spend some quality time with my gal-pal Mary-J, a cute sativa that all the boys wanted to get their hands on. This nightly ritual relaxed me, soothed my aching body and got me through the unbearable summer of 2008. If only we’d progressed as a society just a decade earlier – I’d have applied for The Best Job in the World and been paid to do what I was already doing.

Good luck to all the applicants who've applied to AHLOT's Cannabis Curation Committee! We're accepting applicants until Oct 17th and will reach out to successful second round candidates via email.

In the meantime, we'd love to hear your worst day on a job. Tell us your story on our Facebook page!


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