Your Most Grueling Summer Job

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Summer is, traditionally, a time when people recommit to having fun. But for teens and collegians, it might also mean their first time in the labor force, putting in those hours to make some cash and really getting a firsthand look at how capitalism works. These experiences can be hit-or-miss; one summer when I was in college in Philly, I had an internship at one of the local alt-weeklies (unpaid), worked at a bar (fired very quickly), and spent weekends selling popsicles at farmers markets and street food festivals (hard; I learned I had no arm strength).


Last year, Jezebel’s staff listed off our worst summer job experiences; my popsicle employment is in there, and in fact, there was plenty I liked about it—there was a feeling of accomplishment, and I also traded popsicles for produce with the farmers market vendors, who were sweating bullets under the hot Philadelphia sun. And I got paid. That’s how they (capitalism) get you!

But I’m sure other people had it worse—what was your most grueling summer on the job? Maybe it was the time you took a consulting internship (at least that sounds air-conditioned), or the time you were a camp counselor or lifeguard. I feel like I’m barely scratching the surface here; I don’t know, so you tell me. Leave ‘em in the comments below!

Now let’s award last week’s winners, with the best stories about how far you’ve traveled for sex:

Congrats on your explosive week-long sex vacation, Burninator (also, is that a Trogdor reference?):

Eight thousand nine hundred forty-four miles.

We obviously do not come from the same place. It was a few months after we first hooked up in a random city we both happened to be visiting, when we’d started talking because I’d mentioned I was traveling to his country soon. I landed, he came to my AirBnB straight from work, we spent five minutes doing the slightly absurd “how was your trip?” “how was your day?” nonsense and then he put down his drink, said “oh yes, this is going to work out just fine” and it was fucking on. I surfaced a week later quite thoroughly shagged and pleased with my use of air miles. We’re planning to do the whole thing again in a few months in a totally different country.

Prior to that the record was ~3000 miles, and that was a guy flying my way - okaybut not as good as the 9k guy. Based on this limited historical data, if I were to hook up with an astronaut, I think the next morning I would be nothing but a pile of very contented ash.

The world is too small (and full of people who wanna bone), jhansi ki rani:

Shanghai -> SF, sort of. When I was in my early 20s I was living in China and I was on okcupid to meet folks (and get laid). I messaged this one dude only to have him tell me that he had just moved back to the US. He didn’t tell me where and I didn’t ask, so I moved on and thought nothing of it. Fast-forward a year or so, I moved back to SF and was still on okcupid. Imagine my surprise when I get a message from the same dude who happens to live in the same city. We were hooking up for a couple weeks until I realized the sex was far too mediocre for me to waste my time with.


I admire your spirit, Igridable:

I’ve traveled a lot for sex. When I lived in France, I flew to Sweden, to Switzerland and bused to Germany. Only 2/3 ended up in sex, 3/3 ended up in awkward silences in a shared bed, 3/3 were hot as fuck and will forever cement the romanticized idea in my head that only Scandinavians can appreciate me.


Wow, lucky guy, Ratz again!:

I flew from DC to Rome for a long weekend to have sex with a guy who was 20 something virgin. I was in my early 40s. He was very sweet, but smelled very bad, so we had the most fun in the shower.


That’s a long way to go for someone who sucks, LooseSeals:

3,662 miles.

The guy knew I was coming, was very excited, couldn’t stop talking about all the sex we were going to have, and then ghosted me after I arrived. I really, really wanted to get laid, and he was so cute and an amazing kisser. I had a good time anyway without seeing him.

When I got back to the U.S., he started emailing me again. I ghosted him.

If you want a penpal who you can brag about all the sex you’ll never have with that person, go bug someone in prison who has a life sentence.


Best of luck, BurntFootGumbo!!!

I haven’t had sex almost 6 years. Fuck, I’d go to Mars

And finally, I hate this guy, IinventedPostits:

I started up an online relationship with an unrequited love from college while I was living in New Zealand and he was living in LA. We had never kissed or been together at that point, but it was intense and passionate only in the way a long distance relationship can be. Lots of build up. What could go wrong? He bought me a ticket home for Valentines Day and I flew the 14 hour journey to LA, where he picked me up at the airport and whisked me away to non stop Valentines extravaganza. He took me to and archery place (cupid), then a park to eat sushi where he proceeded to try to have sex with me under a blanket in broad daylight, then to a roller rink and finally a drive-in movie where we sealed the deal. The sex was as good as is can be in the back of mid sized SUV surrounded by other people, but by the end of the night, I was so exhausted and desperately wanted a cheeseburger from my beloved In N Out. He read my exhaustion and hunger (he only fed me once the whole night and we were on a time schedule) as disrespect and lack of appreciation. I saw his demeanor change immediately. As a vegan, he said he wouldn’t kiss me after I ate the cheeseburger. I got one anyways. We went home and I gave him all my thoughtful little gifts I had assembled, including a mixed CD burned on a little disc that looked like a record. He proceeded to tell me all my gifts seemed like I “picked them up at the airport” and they weren’t as thoughtful as his. We broke up that very night and immediately after,we stayed up all night crying and him trying to get back together and make it work. I very wisely declined the offer. Luckily my family lived in LA and stayed with them the remainder of the days of the trip. That night I learned that I don’t like grand gestures of affection, especially when they are empty and only to receive the same in return. :-|


What will next week bring?

Senior Writer, Jezebel



Lab assistant at the UW Dept of Pharmacology. This was also my first job at like 18. My buddy’s Mom was head of the Dept and needed help for the summer for a backlog of tasks they didn’t have the manpower for when school was out over the summer.

On my first day the head of the lab instructed me on what my first task would be. He showed me three huge, floor to ceiling double door freezers that were all completely frozen over blocks of ice inside. I was instructed to chisel out all of the containers inside, let them thaw, empty then clean them to be prepared to be reused for experiments. I was then informed that they were brain, urine and blood samples from brain trauma patients who they were testing a chemical on for better brain heals.

I had to chisel out these bags and boxes test tubes, pee cups et cetera and then let them sit overnight in the sink to thaw. Each morning I came in and the lab was a nearly visible cloud of terror smells. I had to pour each test tube of room temperature cancer urine/blood/brain out one by one. Hundreds upon hundreds of samples In every color you could imagine besides blue. Hours and hours and hours of smelling mind bendingly, rancid bodily fluids one after another. Black urine is not a good smell. Tang Orange urine sucks as well. Chunky purple is humbling. After dumping I needed to rinse the tubes ten times each with alcohol and pure water to send downstairs to be treated to become water resistant for future use. Thank jeebus they let my listen to my headphones. Though Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots can genuinely trigger pee smells for me to this day.

After the freezers were done after a week or two I got to do cool centrifuge stuff and other mad science equipment tasks but that first week was unreal.