As banal as it may sound, I found working at a Value Village in Toronto to be a rather intriguing experience.
I'd spend every shift sifting through a truly colossal mix of random items donated by people from all walks of life. Lurking underneath my store's affordable second-hand goods was a repository of really weird stuff, both good and bad, and I'm here to share just how bizarre it got.
For your reading pleasure, here are six of the weirdest things I saw donated during my time working at a Toronto Value Village.
Unopened cans of spam
One of the strangest donations we received during my time working at Value Village was a box filled with unopened cans of Spam.
Not only does Value Village not accept canned foods as a rule, but this donation was particularly odd because the cans were vintage, still sealed from the late '90s. It made me wonder about the donor's story—were they preparing for a Y2K-style event that never happened, or were they just that lazy?
Despite my efforts to persuade my co-worker with the promise of a $50 bill, no one ever tasted the contents of those cans, so I guess we'll never know if they kept or not. Oh well, a boy can dream.
A used diary
You'd be amazed at the personal treasures people unknowingly (or knowingly?) part with. One day, among the usual mix of t-shirts and mismatched socks, I stumbled upon a diary. Now, this wasn't just any diary—it was the saga of a man on a mission to conquer his world, one calf raise at a time.
I should precursor this by saying that I am ashamed to admit that I read someone else's diary, but the entries were like a cross between a fitness log and an existential crisis; I simply could not help myself. Our hero, let's call him "Gym Guy Greg," detailed his relentless pursuit of sculpted calves with the seriousness of a military general. There were a lot of self-reflection chapters about why his calves weren't quite the size of small mountains yet. A lot.
But, between these intense reflections on calf size, Greg also mused about life, love, and the proper ratio of protein to carbs for maximum gains — mostly the latter. It was like reading a Greek epic, only with more protein shakes and less bloodshed.
Stumbling upon Greg's calf-centric chronicles reminded me that everyone has their own completely unique struggles and dreams. So, here's to Greg—wherever you are, may your calves finally reach their god-like potential.
A VHS tape of home movies
In an era of streaming domination, finding a VHS tape at Value Village felt like uncovering an ancient artifact. So, when a few of my co-workers, having seen the movie The Ring, and I stumbled upon an unmarked tape, our curiosity was pretty darn piqued. Armed with a VCR that looked like it had retired decades ago, we decided to see what kind of cinematic masterpiece we'd unearthed.
We hit play, and after a few seconds of static, we were treated to the riveting saga of a guy trying to figure out how to work a camcorder. The whole tape was basically a blooper reel of epic dad moments. There he was, fumbling with buttons, accidentally zooming in on his own confused face and capturing endless footage of the ceiling, his feet, and his family's baffled expressions.
Every now and then, we'd catch a glimpse of what was supposed to be a family vacation —Toronto landmarks, a sunny day at the beach— but mostly, it was just dad's unintentional documentary on the perils of analog technology. His running commentary ranged from, "Is this thing on?" to "Why is it so blurry?" making the whole experience feel like a low-budget sitcom.
A collection of clown figurines
I remember we once received a giant case with a collection of clown figurines inside.
The figurines varied in size and style, from jolly jesters to more unsettling, sinister-looking clowns. It was clear that the donor had a passion for collecting these things, and perhaps they were downsizing or simply moving on from this unique hobby.
Naturally, the figurines became a topic of conversation among the staff. I may have low-key started a rumour that they were haunted, but I don't know. I was drinking a lot of iced capps back then.
The clowns were there the whole time I worked there, though, watching me. I still wonder if anyone ever bought them. I hope not.
Old medical equipment
One of the quirkiest donations we ever received at my Value Village location was a box of old medical equipment that looked straight out of a mad scientist's lab.
We're talking a stethoscope, a vintage blood pressure monitor, and even a bone saw that had clearly seen better days—probably around the time leeches were a top-tier medical treatment. These items seemed more suited for a horror movie set or a "Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe" than a thrift store in Toronto.
Naturally, my co-workers and I couldn't resist developing theories during smoke breaks. Maybe they came from a retired doctor who finally swapped house calls for Floridian golf swings. Or, perhaps a med school student decided that a career in medicine wasn't worth the risk of being haunted by the ghosts of medical equipment past. For a brief moment, we even wondered if someone was planning an unconventional home decor theme—because nothing says "welcome home" like a bone saw in your living room.
The best part? Imagine the look on the customers' faces when they came in expecting to find a vintage toaster and instead were greeted by the kind of gear that would make Dr. Frankenstein proud.
A wedding dress with a twist
Wedding dresses would often show up in our donation bins, but one particular gown came with a note that left my co-workers and me feeling really bummed.
The dress wasn't exactly high-end, more "something borrowed" vibes than designer couture. But attached to it, I kid you not, was a handwritten note that read, "Worn once, didn't work out. May it bring someone else better luck." Yikes.
Donation? More like a whole narrative in a dress bag. We couldn't help but try to imagine the scenario: the hopeful trip down the aisle, the awkward buffet at the reception, and then, well, something less happy.
Working at Value Village in Toronto is like being behind the scenes of the city's prop department.
Every donation, from clown figurines to a wedding dress with a note, gave us a glimpse into the colourful lives of Torontonians.
If you want a job in Toronto with a touch of mystery, the Village is your vibe!
