My worst job ever must have been the one I had working at Rob’s Bowling Supply. The staff consisted of Big Rob, his brother Eli, and a Bunch of Jackrabbits. -- No, really.

And then there was me.

Big Rob would sit at the desk.   It was a wide desk, but not relative to the size of his ass. Rob would constantly scratch at his thick, coarse sideburns -- must've had a bad rash under all of that dark and curly.  Rob wasn't the cleanest of men.  To be entirely honest, this fellow was, indeed, quite filthy.  Somehow his mere presence made the room feel, well, kind of like an old basement.  Despite the abundance of moth holes and stretched elastic on his once-white T-shirts, their sweat-stained underarms revealed that these ventilation devices were apparently ineffective.  Between the size of Big Rob's breasts and his protruding abdomen, that poor old T-shirt fabric simply had too much flesh to cling onto before getting a chance to reach as low as Rob’s waistline.

Come to think of it, I don’t believe Rob ever changed his pants throughout the entire time that I worked for him.  He was always seen with slightly dark-blue Wranglers – the dark shade a result of excessive use rather than fabric dye – that were somehow too tight around the thighs but not tight enough around the waste.  Granted Rob barely needed flexibility out of a pair of pants, I still wonder whether or not he was completely oblivious to the consequence his physical shape had on these ill-fitting jeans.  Anytime Rob’s legs would bend to less than a 70^o angle (and this was quite often – remember that Rob would sit at the desk) the upper rim on the back of his Wranglers would peel away from the hairy flesh, exposing Rob's notable crack.

Eli knew good and well about the crack.  Often, him and I would go out together on lunch breaks and "crack" jokes about his brother’s exposure.  I’m not sure what Eli’s job was… He would always run the bowling balls through the buffer, though – seeing as how we didn’t sell bowling balls – I'm not sure why.

My job was to feed the Bunch of Jackrabbits.  I’d have to say that the primary reason for this was my drive. Nobody had drive like me. I drove those Bunch of Jackrabbits like there was no tomorrow (except on Fridays, since technically Saturday and Sunday weren’t workdays).  And I would not have had this drive if it weren’t for my motivation.   You have got to give credit where credit is due.

Near the end of the day, when things would just begin to wind down, the chef would make treats for everybody.   Grapes that would burst in your mouth.  Not because they were so juicy, but because their skins were so thick and tight.  Once that skin broke, you never knew what you were in for.   Mostly seeds and juice I'll bet.

I guess that was when I realized my job was going in circles.  It wasn’t until I got fired that I realized that Eli’s job was too. That was the worst job I ever had.