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The Crappiest Jobs Contest Winners

Read on for tales of horror, poop, woe, poop, injury and poop. Seriously, lots of poop.

Want to win an inFamous 2 Hero Box Set? Enter our 'Crappiest Vacations' Contest Below!

A little while back, we asked you to send us your shitty job stories, in return for Killzone 3 goodies. We expected to hear some terrible things, but all we can say is: wow. We realize we have it pretty cushy here at Maxim (although it’s not always sunshine and roses: just this morning, for example, the office hot tub was ever so slightly below optimum temperature. We had to fire our entire masseuse staff over it) but still, the horror stories you sent us were shocking. We liked them so much, in fact, that we’ve decided to give away three of the Killzone 3 Limited Helghast Edition boxes in an effort to ease your pain. We've got the runners up here, and the three lucky (we use that word in the loosest sense possible) winners are below.


My crappiest job literally had to do with crap. I was the assistant teacher to the severely learning disabled in the pre-teen and teenage classes. These were the kids that still wore diapers, and were as infants while growing into adults. Well, my job entailed cleaning up most of the time. And what I had to clean up was feces, most of the time.

Two of the boys, if you didn't get them restrained and changed before they realized they had filled their diapers, would stick their hands down them and start smearing. As soon as they saw you noticed, it was a chase - but not me running after them, actually I would be running from them! They had this thing where they always tried to smear it on me, and mostly went for my face! OMG talk about a crappy job! I was terrified daily I would end up with crap and that smell hand-painted onto me in the most horrifying and disgusting manner. They thought it was funny and would be laughing to tears at themselves.

Once, the larger of the two got a hold of me around the waist, hoisted me up, and went running down the hall holding on to me with one arm, naked from the waist down, while smearing the walls in the hallway of the school with the other hand, screaming and laughing at the top of his lungs. I was terrified, and no one would come help me!! They were all too scared to get anywhere near him. I am sitting here typing about it, so I obviously lived and got away, but it is still a nightmare of a memory for me. I know there are some crappy jobs out there, but mine had to deal with real crap. And that is why it was truly one of the crappiest jobs there is and the crappiest one I ever dealt with – oh, and I’ve also been a fish cleaner at a restaurant.
--Jennifer, Angola IN
Jesus H Christ, Jennifer, how are you not in therapy by now? This is just so horrifying on so many levels: throw in a clown and you’ve pretty much got the scariest story of all time. Please, have a Killzone 3 box set on us (just wash your hands before playing, ok?)

The single most crappy job in the world is hands down a Corrections Officer/Jailer. First, you have a crackhead D-bag that gets into fights with the police officers. The Police don't help either, they stir up the hornets’ nest because as soon as they’re in jail, they’re not their problem anymore. Now this individual is all fired up, pissed himself, bleeding and cussing everyone out! You try and book the individual in and he's spitting everywhere!

You realize you are unable to get anywhere until he sobers up, so he is placed in a detox room. From there, he decides that he doesn't want to be video taped, so he strips naked, craps on the floor and smears it on the camera. Flushes whole toilet paper rolls and parts of his t-shirt, flooding the toilet water into the hallway. By now, "that’s all I can stands cuz I cant stands no more"! D-bag is placed into a restraint chair for his safety and for the safety of others. Everyone (all officers at the PD) restrain this guy to this special chair (naked with piss, blood, feces and spit all over him).

Now I’m stuck writing incident reports out the ass (why a plumber needed to fish jammed TP rolls and t-shirts out of the toilet; why camera 2 is covered in feces; use of force report, etc) and this jackass is on a constant babysitters watch, so he doesn't die in the chair!!! I’m now pissed because I spent all this time with this asshole that I'm behind on rounds, paperwork, med pass and I have to get everything cleaned up before the jail administrator arrives in the morning.

This type of extreme incident doesn’t happen all the time, but pretty darn close! Police Officers have a thankless job, but Corrections 
Officers have the ultimate crappiest job by having to wipe noses and deal with a room full of people that want to tear your fucking head off every minute of the day you’re working there. Not to mention you have to offer medical and dental to a jackass that was just charged with rape, murder, drug trafficking etc.

I proudly served for 13 years with the rank of Sergeant. I’m retired now, but boy! Was that a crappy job!!!
--Mario, Cleveland OH
Mario, from the bottom of our hearts: we’re really, really sorry about that crack rampage we went on. Please have a Killzone 3 box set to make up for it.PS - can we have our t-shirt back?

A few years ago I worked for a cemetery. The job didn't seem that first. Then came the guy who died in July. This poor guy sat, rotting in his house for two weeks before anyone noticed. He smelled so wretched they needed two coffins - one for the closed casket and the other for his carcass. We had to load the casket on a special truck so the family could not smell him. We could. Horrible, rotten, decomposed, putrid: the smell lingered in our noses for hours, it stuck to our clothes. All we kept thinking was, "Please don't fall and break open". We skipped lunch that day.

Then there was the day I was mowing the grass around one of the outdoor mausoleums. The granite faceplates on several spots appeared rather odd. I hopped off the mower and as I approached, I got punched in the throat with the absolute worst stench. A stench so bad I wished for Mr. Stinky. I hauled my ass back to the shop and got the foreman. Upon inspection, we had a "leaker".

When we place a casket inside a mausoleum spot, the casket rests inside a plastic tray. The tray is in case the body breaks down into slush and oozes out of the casket. It's supposed the catch the sludge: it didn't. All the slime of the decomposition, the embalming fluids and natural gases overflowed the tray and spilled outward. The river of man-juice flowed into other spots, onto the outside granite and onto the wonderfully manicured lawn. We had a real life Bio-Hazard on our hands and were told we had to scrub the crypt spots out. 

Thankfully, upper management – yes there really was upper management - contracted an outside company to handle the mother pus-bucket.

The worst thing that happened at the job left me scarred, physically. We used 4'x8' plywood sheets to cover wet ground when we needed to drive over it. After such an occasion, I was left to rustle these unwieldy, awkward monsters back up. It's a two-man job but everyone scattered like cockroaches when the lights come on. I got the first couple sheets up on the truck with relative ease, but the second to last one twisted in my hands with the wind and as I held on to it, I felt my right shoulder flip. Not roll, not pop, flip. Severe, mind-blowing pain shot through every fiber of my body as I dropped the plywood on the truck. Slumping against the truck in agony, I knew something was wrong. I drove back to the shop and found the assistant foreman. As I'm telling him what happened, he goes, "Don't use that arm when we load the coffin into the mausoleum this afternoon”! I didn't get sent to the doctor, the hospital, nothing of the sort. Just sent back out to work.

I called off the next day and called a doctor. Had an appointment all set up for that afternoon, never made it. I blacked out from the pain so my wife rushed me to the ER. Doc asks the questions, says "workman's comp", all the usual stuff. That's when the real fun started because the head foreman thought I faked it. Never said it to me directly, just everyone else. I spent hours of "light duty" work sweeping streets one-handed. Weeding around trees by hand, scraping bird shit, whatever struck his fancy. Five long grueling months of physical therapy, five MRIs and two doctors later, I had exploratory surgery. Exploratory surgery that turned into major surgery. What the good doctor found was a chuck of my rotator cuff floating inside me. And by chunk, I mean a third. The only thing keeping my arm attached was skin and muscle. When that plywood twisted, when my shoulder flipped, I tore one third of my rotator cuff off my shoulder. My "faked" injury was a complete inability to use my right arm. Like a majority of people, I'm right arm dominant. My life was essentially put on hold. For those five months I sat depressed while my sadistic boss tortured me. It was not pretty.

The final tally was thirteen staples, five more months of rehab, a permanent disability and groovy pictures of the inside of my shoulder. The foreman still didn't believe me and still tortured me. It didn't matter though, my ass was quitting as soon as the doctor released me. But I didn't even get to do that - the jerks fired me.

It may not be the crappiest job, but I think rotting corpses, free flowing primordial goo, mental torture and having body parts reattached ranks pretty high up there.

Thanks for reading. 
No, Chad, you’re wrong: that is not only the crappiest job entry we received, it may be the crappiest job anyone has ever had, ever, including masturbating horses, scrubbing abattoirs and writing episodes of $#*! My Dad Says. Enjoy your prize, sir: you've earned it.

Check out the Runners Up!

Tell us more crappy stories to win the awesome inFamous 2: Hero Edition!

That’s right, we’ve got more cool stuff to give away. If you want to win the Infamous 2: Hero Edition, tell us about your crappiest ever summer vacation. Took a hot air balloon ride that crashed into a sewage plant? Caught three STDs and possibly leprosy off a Thai hooker? Went to Belgium? We want to know about it! We have three of these prizes to give away, so get writing!

Send your entries for Maxim’s Crappiest Contest to with “Crappiest Vacation” in the subject line.