Oh my gosh, Ive just had the worst memory recollection ever of where my parents decided that, as a four year old, it was time to start pulling my weight and get a job. Alas, no one would employ me due to my slight stature and being vastly under the age of employment, so, unbowed and determined to get me doing something despite the legal ramifications, first thing in the morning they would go to the paper shop and buy the entire stock of newspapers. Their idea was, like it or not, the people of my town would have a crisp and clean newspaper delivered through their door by 7am each morning and if this wasnt completed, Id be beaten with whatever periodicals remained. I managed a week of carting 2,500 newspapers around at 5am until my spindly little shoulders gave in and I needed several operations. The paper shop to was unimpressed as they received thousands of complaints from angry residents who didnt want newspapers, or the dirty magazines I occasionally posted through the letterbox to give me some variety. Refusing to be defeated by their failure, as soon as I was released from hospital (early, on my parents request, because they thought I was malingering), they set me to work in a reptile shop, hoping it would please their scaly overlords. This has brought back some very bad memories of when I was bitten by a baby komodo dragon and the wound went gangrenous!
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 15:38:46 +0000
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