The Idler

Weedbuster

The worst job I’ve ever had was one summer after I had dropped out of University. I took a job as a weedsprayer. Every day I had to wear a green boiler suit, carry a 35 litre tank of toxic weedkiller on my back and a sprayer in my hand. The look was finished off with lime green marigolds and a face mask. My 12 hour shift consisted of scaling the banks that run along side motorways, spraying around the little trees in the height of summer to prevent the poor little things being overpowered by bramble and other violent plants. I get chronic hayfever which made an already hellish job much worse.

When the 3 months of this motorway hell had ended I went on to spray the streets of Slough, which, comparitively speaking, I was looking forward to, but it was much worse. At least on the motorway banks I was a faceless saddo, but now my pride was naked to the world. Imagine if you will the site of me in my green boiler suit, marigolds and face mask walking down your road spraying the pavements. Four year old children would run up shouting ‘Ghostbuster!’ Laughing in my face and calling me a twat, sad bastard etc. There was nothing I could say or do, no witty retort could hide the fact that they were right.

One day an incontinent bag lady came up to me, patted me on the arm and said, in a soothing voice, ‘My, I bet your parents are proud.’ She shuffled off giggling in her self-stained trousers.

I consider that to be the lowest point of my life.

Dan Kieran