They were typically divided by intensity or size. Not color.

I have a lot of stories about that place.

WOW

I was a janitor in high school, which does not sound too weird. However I performed the work at night and it was a pathology lab. One of my tasks was to take out the trash - not too weird, but on any given night there might be a gangrene arm or leg in the trash. I had to carefully wrap the plastic bag around the appendage. Sometimes it bag was not large enough at the bloody end of the appendage would stick out. Then I would take the trash down the elevator. In the basement there was a cement floor and a poorly lit hallway that echoed with each creak of the wheels on the cement floor. I ended up at the incinerator. I would open the heavy blast door, where there were usually some cinders burning from other tenants' of the building’s trash. Then I would throw the bags of the trash into the incinerator When I got to the bag with the amputated appendage I hoped (prayed) the bag would not split open and the bloody end rub on your hands or stain the sleeve of your best flannel shirt. Once the trash was in the incinerator, I closed the heavy cast iron door and hit the ignition switch, which caused the natural gas burners to kick on with an eerie glow from slits around the blast door which were not completely sealed and sizzle with the burning flesh.
However, this was not the only hazards of the job, there were needles in the trash and that is why you had to be up to date on your TB shots. So lifting the trash bags could result in punctures from needles of diseased people.
But wait, that’s not all. Once every six months or so I was required to go to a store room in the basement of this six-story building, load up a cart of brains that were store in jars of formaldehyde (I think). Take the cart to the incinerator and toss them in. The law required that the brains be stored for two years or something.
Who helped get me this wonderful job – my DAD, who was a pathologist.
Best damn job I ever had. It got me out of the house, I could do it any time after about 6 pm and I was able to spend as much of my pay check as a wanted on girls and beer and still save about ½ of my paycheck.

whoa! more info on the speech writing! what did you write?! you have GOT to throw us a bone. 16. wow.
we knew this woman who was a speech writer for Reagan! unfortunately, I could not stand her. for one, she hit on Db all the time. she's a real estate salesperson in Colorado.

GHBS! this is HYSTERICAL! omg- did the "relationship aids" divide out by pinks and reds? I'm an autumn, does that make a difference? LOL

I worked for the Dallas Cowboys. Jerry Jones. I was a food runner for the suites in the old stadium. My suites were on one end of football field and the food pickup location was at the other end. I had to put the food on a heavy cart and haul ass to the customers, which was fine. What made me resign after just one game was when they ran out of water for us runners. I just figured a job where I had to walk 15+ miles in a day without water wasn't worth it.

The other job that fits this description was writing inspirational speeches for executives in major corporations ($billions). Back then, I was a 16-year-old intern originally hired to make copies, get coffee, and take staples out of stuff.

ugh. sales. we are going to hear some doozies from the sales front.
THe theory from the publishers was that it was less expensive to send back covers (proof of the books in inventory) than the entire book-as the racket goes in college book sales-a new edition every year costs more than the previous edition. This was a very difficult job to have, luckily I had a great co-worker who made me laugh and was an Objectivist. He quizzed me on my reading lists and we secretly put back into stock any Rand books that were slated to be destroyed. and Aristotle. and Locke. and a few others. we were evil like that :)

Love this.

My weirdest/craziest job was working at Pure Romance. They're like Avon or Mary Kay but they sell "relationship aids".

I started in customer service. People would call up and ask how to put the batteries in or they thought we were an escort service. I'm not joking about either of those scenarios... both happened more than once.

I was so good at customer service that I got "promoted" to complaints. Yep, people screamed at me all day and threatened to sue me over "relationship aids".

Excuse my ignorance, but why were you ripping off the covers and sending them back to the publishers? What was the purpose?

Craziest job... I couldn't have been more than 17, and it didn't last more then a week, but I cold-called selling pencils in the name of veterans. It was a small dark hole-in-the-wall. We literally had a wall of phone books from around the country that we would go and grab from, and just start randomly calling people. The pitch was that the money would go to help vets in distress. It didn't. I left.