All-righty. I'm sort of interested to see this myself (and to see how much I'll forget). It's going to be a long'un. These are sort of in order, although often jobs overlap each other.
So, my first job was working on a farm, shovelling grain into a Archimedes screw type thing.
Various other farm jobs followed, involving normal farm-type stuff, and one escape from certain death. If you want to see me go white when telling a story, ask me about it.
Me and a friend did some gardening around the village we lived in - we earned £1 an hour each. Whoo yeah!
I helped my old man look after a rich chap's racing cars sometimes, which involved going to race tracks and stuff, often in other parts of Western Europe. They were the only times I left the UK.
I've beaten for bird shoots a few times.
I worked as a trapper (person that presses the buttons when someone says "pull") at a clay pigeon shooting site, eventually becoming a CPSA referee.
I've worked till at Sainsbury's and Tesco, and had jobs at KFC, McDonalds and Burger King.
I buy a flashing light and dig the sub speakers out of my car to be a DJ for a night. I keep it up for a
long time.
I worked as a cashier for a local petrol station. I used to play on my Playstation on a black and white TV under the counter.
I left school, which I was shit at.
I went to work for Spalding (the sports people) picking goods in their warehouses. I got fired for crashing a forklift into one of the shelving units and knocking a load of stuff down. That same weekend I got fired from the petrol station because the boss thought I was stealing cigarettes. Not a great weekend.
Then I got a job with a company I can't remember the name of, who used to make rubber door seals for cars. My job was to measure the door seals against a bit of wood, making sure they fell within two marks. I stood there from 8pm to 8am, measuring one every five seconds, at a guess. In the two months I worked there, I had three seals that were the wrong length
I remember wanting to stay at that company, because when you'd been there for a year they would send you to Germany for two weeks on an exchange program. I get really weird emotions when I think now about how excited that made me - mostly fear and guilt, like I'm betraying myself somehow. Fuck knows. The job was turning me into a fucking zombie though, so I quit.
I get a job with a builder friend of the guy running the clay pigeon site helping him out building a garage when he was low on staff. I tell him I can drive a JCB backhoe loader, which I'd done once about six years ago, but it turned out I was fairly handy at it. He kept me on after the garage job, and loaned me some money so I could get the proper license for driving vehicles on building sites and let me pay it back out of my wages each week. I remember crying when he offered it to me, because it was the first time anyone had done anything like that for me. Builders have trouble knowing what to do in those situations
I get work in a night club at the weekends. I start in the bar, but after one night I'm moved to 'indoor security'. As I didn't have a certificate, I wasn't allowed to be an official bouncer, but that's what I was. I DJed at the club a few times, too. At that time I was working for the builder all week, bouncing on Friday and Saturday nights, doing my JCB course on Saturdays and still working for the clay pigeon site on Sunday. I was perfectly happy and would still be doing it now, but a girl broke my heart and everything went to
shit.
Four weeks later I have no jobs at all, and don't leave the house except to put the bins out. I'd saved a thousand pounds or so up over the years, so I could probably have stayed that way for a few months. At the time I didn't think much about it, but it's pretty clear that I was depressed. It fucking
sucks. That whole time, and a lot of stuff from my relationship with said girl has simply vanished from my head. It sounds like a cliché but I really have to try hard to remember things about it, and often I can't at all.
A guy called Jake saved my life, and got me the fucked up "job" of living in a woman's house. She worked for Shell, and spend 95% of her time in Dubai. I looked after her house.
I took what was left of my money to pay the builder back (it was about £700). He told me he'd forget about it if I came back to work for him and finished the course. I agreed, but there was no crying this time - I was (and am) a very different person to the guy he used to employ.
I prove this three weeks later by resigning the second I had completed the course to work for Her Majesties Highways, building the Bedford bypass. He was understandably angry about it, and asked for the his money back. My last words to him were "show me a fucking contract and it's yours". One day I'll call him up and apologise.
I discover that working on roads is exactly what everyone thinks it is - basically a fuckload of waiting. I learned how to work all kinds of machinery, it was awesome. When the road was nearly finished, I got into an argument with the foreman about wearing my hard hat when I was inside the tractor. He called my bad things. I laughed in his face. He pushed me, I pushed him. He went to hit me and I took him out. Unsurprisingly, that was the end of that job.
Jake had moved into the woman's house with me by then, and he lived in a somewhat different world - he was a computer programmer and earned loads of money, and he was bisexual, a thing that hadn't existed in my life up until then. He was an attractive guy and never had any trouble hooking up with either sex. I would always be his wingman, but because I was out of work I couldn't afford drinks once he'd pulled, so I started introducing myself to women by telling them they should buy me a drink. Thus was born the "aggressive romantic style" that led to
It also found its way into the rest of my life, and now it's hard to imagine a not hyper-arrogant me.
Anyhow, Jake had got me interested in computers, and I got a job working in a warehouse 'refurbishing' laser printers and keyboards, which basically meant I'd test them, replace any broken parts from the big "pile of bits" if I could, and clean them. If they were properly past it, I'd strip them for the pile. Unfortunately the company ran out of money, and had to let me go.
Next door to where my dad worked a new branch for a nationwide "IT warrantee" company move in, and I got a job with them. They gave me a Rover 600si and I had to drive around the country swapping faulty hardware out, or repairing it on site if I could. I loved the job, but I hated the boss, and he hated me. Eventually he used the fact that I was putting petrol in my car on a Friday night and a Monday morning to fire me, although everyone else did it too. Cunt. I grab a "beyond repair" PC on my way out, and fix it when I get home. It's the first one I'd ever owned.
Hooking up with a temp company I work for Fujifilm telling lorries what printers (big, photo-processing printers) to take where. I work for Eastern Energy, helping renew contracts for big companies during their end of year rush. I do various other things too, that I don't really remember. My first software job is for something to do with the parole office - I made them an Access database thing that let them store all their employee details. There were printed-off help files
everywhere 
All the time I'm still earning money from the woman who wants me to live in her house. Years of having no money at all had made me put letters from the bank into the bin as soon as they arrived, but when Jake realised I was doing that he told me off and dug one back out, and I had over £10,000. That was one Hell of a night.
Off I went to work for a company called Tenser, that invented smart cards (credit cards with remote-read chips in, like Oyster cards) as a software tester. I write a "fault database" in PHP. I can't begin to imagine how terrible my code was. I stay at Tenser for a fair while.
Miss Grim... (she wasn't Mrs Grim... back then) suddenly decides to do an MA in London, and invites me to come with her. I leave my job at Tenser, and move to Bermondsey. I blag my way to a couple of Guest DJ spots at The End, and get paid more for fours hours work there than I used to get for a week digging up roads. I get an interview for a role of Junior Web Developer, and
lie through my teeth. Bullshit needle pushed to critical, I get the job, which pays twice what I earned at Tenser. I've stayed there ever since, and HERE ENDS THE SURPRISINGLY PERSONAL BALLAD OF THE WORKING LIFE OF GRIM....
TLDR: I've done a lot of different jobs.
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I suppose it'd be a bit of a crap job here though, since there'd only be about 5 months work every year.
