And THAT is why I am not an english major! slinks away sheepishly
I make and serve drinks with no burn. Some are brewed; some are steamed; some are both, kind of. A few are poured over ice. Many are made, at least in part, from ground beans. At times, I sell books, which are made from trees, not beans.
I want your job! Or if you work with folks who write from home, let me know! I like to write of plants and soil and worms and bugs and stuff. (It’s real hard to think of names of things that make plants sick that fit these rules!)
I smell broken houses and tell the government how bad they smell
I stand in front of big room and show slides of nice paint and carved stone made by dead white guys (and some girls) and speak on this old art to some smart kids, but bored frat boys too, and frat girls too (they not in real frats, though-- they in girls’ beer clubs, like frats with more songs and hugs-- starts with ‘s’). And not so smart kids that are not in frats–all kinds of kids. But all these kids nice and fun, but I give them hard things to write on tests and some long things to write and I tell them how to make them more good (!) and that’s not so nice when they do not do so good. When there is no class (May and June and June and so on) I read a lot and write things that I hope the guys at the thin books’ that come out each month or year or half year will print, so I can get real job that I keep for more than one year at a time.
I thought you were old like me. What you said in the thread about old bad toys tells me you’re not. Get off my lawn!
I art.
I am a coin-op art chick who will draw or print or make nice ads and things for you. I can make the bad art file you send to me good. I think folk who do own art have a fool for an ‘art pro’.
Pro geek here. I’ve done lots of stuff, but I don’t work right now. I need to find a job. Stuff I’ve done: build and fix comps, set up apps, get yelled at on phone by peeps whose games don’t work - or they are just dumb (I stopped that kind of job 'cause it made me nuts), test and mod comp boards, test games. Now I might get some certs, move to in-house help desk type stuff. Lots of pro geeks 'round here - S. F. Bay home of pro geeks, you know - makes it hard to find jobs. Plus I tend to slack. Bad me!
I deal with reams of typed, faxed, and mailed stuff. And print outs. I play voice mail and call back. I type and file and talk on the phone some more. I drive, talk and show, then give out forms. I call folks and write things down. I try to give more stuff out than comes in to my desk. I work on web site and post ads. I make it sound great - rent here! I send and get mail on screen. I take cash, cheques and more. I write and make things in Word a lot. And in Edge, too. I make the things you sign to live there when we pick you. I make dates* and write them in date books. I deal with mail. I make lots of mail, too. I pick up our mail and date stamp it and give it out. I pull things out of files and deal with them. I put them back in files. I look things up and write them down. I deal with folks. I smile and fake it. I go home at five, tired.
Too much stuff to do to surf Dope whilst there all day, woe!
* "Appointments". I do not actually work for an escort agency.You have house, thus you owe tax, you come to me with tax bill, I do stuff and then you owe less tax!
OK, in fact I only look at your tax bill for a little bit and then rest of the day, I surf dope! 
I teach young kids at a city school. The school is not in my own land. It is over here (look up and right on the screen to see where “here” is). I like my job. The pay is good and the small home is nice too.
When I leave school, many times I just go to what the folks here call a “P C bang” or “P C room” so I can read and play fun games like this one on the Straight Dope’s threads.
I am on short term sick leave right now. I will go back to work next month. I draw stuff called “trees” on a screen, then print it, and give it to guys who build my stuff. My “tree” helps oil come out of the ground (under the sea) through a pipe and go in the hold of a ship, or to a tank on land. Sounds lame, don’t it? 
I write code. I work on a switch that lets a guy sit at his desk and type and move his mouse and look at his screen to run a box (or more than one box) that is far from his desk.
My job: I teach dudes and chicks how to take stuff from crime scenes, make it safe, take it to the lab, and find out what it is, how it got there, how weird it is that it got there, and what it all means.
Hard work: I take new one-point-two-Mil bucks tech and make it stick to the rules so we can use it to look at stuff from crime scenes. And I try to make it help us look at stuff that has not been looked at with this tech in the past. It is quite hard, due to the size of the stuff I look at (quite small) and all the rules I have to stick to (quite a lot!).
Not job but takes up my time: I deal with the cash for a ‘club’ of dudes and chicks who take stuff from crime scenes. I do their web page stuff and I get well known dudes and chicks who take stuff from crime scenes to come here and talk to our ‘club’. This takes up most of my time when not at work.
It would seem to me that a lot of folks write like a child to pass this test - to speak plain and with no frills - but just that thought on its own won’t get you past the Dope’s sharp eyes!
(I shall check this post at least once, if not more, lest I end up with the dunce cap on my head, and mocked by my peers. No doubt it would be called for, I must say. With luck my first post was made with no falls from my plan, though, so at least I have that to cling to.)
Drat. To make my post 'fore this one meet the rules of the game, three words need to change. Look down and read the bold words in the quote, please.
When I look up and right on the screen, I do not see where “here” is. I see naught but two marks that could be used to show doubt as to where “here” is.
Why, those two marks tell you the town in which I teach. Of course, the marks are in the speech of the people here. The first of the marks is said as “Pu” and the next mark is said as “San.” Odd thing is that town’s name can be said in your land’s tongue as Pot Hill. (No, not that pot, but the one in which one cooks.)
To see them in this land’s script, press ALT then F then D and at last K.
I run a firm that will clean your work space and your glass for a fee. We have big fun when we get calls from those who are mad and we try to calm them down and fix what irks them. Those who work for us call too and drive us nuts with lame claims as to why they can’t work. We have so much fun in fact that at times we want to pull our hair out, or what may be left of it. Great thread, by the way.
I work as a nurse too. I work in a place for sick brains. I like old folks with sick brains. I wash dress feed and give pills to old folks with sick brains. Most old folks I work with don’t like to wash, or dress, or take pills. They hit and yell and kick and punch. I tell the doc this old man hits me, the dame spits. I tell old man’s son his dad hits. Son says “My dad is nice.” I say his brain is sick, now he hits folks. Son gets mad. Son talks to doc, to the place to live and cash flow dame, to the help you walk man, to the help you work dame. Old man’s son talks to my boss. Says “Nurse has it in for my dad. Dad knows stuff. Dad knows who won sports a long time ago. Dad knows truck parts. Dad is not dumb. This place is dumb. You give Dad pills, and pills mix Dad up. You made Dad more sick.”
Doc says we did not make the Dad sick. Dad’s brain is sick, and it gets worse. Son yells. Wants to call the guy who knows about laws and sues people. Says he will take from me the card that says I can be a nurse.
I love the old folks. I like folks with sick brains. It is sad when your mom or dad has a sick brain. I do not like the kids of the folks with sick brains too much. I do not like the days we talk to the kids or wife or man of the old folks with sick brains that make them hit us.
That is why I do not sleep, though it be late.