was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.

Needless to say, she won. Here's the story:



Hi Sue,

Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother.
Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know
you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought
I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize
it's not so bad after all.

Before I can tell you about what happened to me, I
first must bore you with a few technicalities of my
job. As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the
sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wetsuit.
This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we
do to keep warm is this: we have a diesel powered
industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of
equipment sucks water out of the sea and then heats it
to a comfortable temperature. It then pumps it down
to the diver through a glorified garden hose, which
surrounds the diver with delightful warm water.

Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used
it several times with no problems or complaints. But
what I like to do when I get to the bottom and start
working is take the end of the hose and stuff it down
the back of my wetsuit. This floods my whole suit
with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi!

Everything was going well on this particular day until
all of a sudden, my rear started to really, really
itch. So, of course, I scratched it. But to my
surprise this only made things worse. And within a
few seconds my rear was really burning. I pulled the
hose out from my back, but the damage was already
done. In my agony I finally realized what had
happened.

The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and
pumped it into my suit. Now since I don't have any
hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it.
Unfortunately, however, my rear was not
as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an
itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into
my rear!

I informed my supervisor of my dilemma over the
communicator. His instructions were unclear due to
the fact that he, along with five other divers, were
all laughing hysterically! Needless to say, I aborted
the dive.

I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water
decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes
before I could reach the surface to begin my dry
chamber decompression. When I arrived at the surface,
I was wearing nothing but my brass helmet. As I
climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of
laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of
cream and told me to rub it on my rear as soon as I
got in the chamber.

The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for
two days because my rear was swollen shut. So, next
time you're having a bad day at work, think about how
much worse it would be

Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job,
I love my job..."