The amount of freedom you get from the usual baggage that accompanies a job is amazing. I don’t even need to see my coworkers more than just to drop off paperwork at the office and sometimes hand packages off from one messenger to another. Not that I don’t want to see them. There’s a whole bike messenger social scene in Boston (and any other city), and always leads to meeting new people and forming new friendships.
There’s no dress code, of course, though my boss does insist on helmets. Heck, tattoos and piercings are practically required to look the part. And being outdoors on your own, listening to music, riding a bike is something that you really don’t need to pay me to do.
Then there’s always the feeling of absolute superiority that comes with dodging cars and trucks for a living. It certainly keeps you far more attentive of your surroundings than the average pedestrian in Boston, who tend to ignore anything less obvious than close range missile strikes (typical occurrence, you know that a pedestrian is about to appear from behind a UPS truck, and maneuver carefully to ride a foot behind him as he does so, and twenty feet past him you hear “Jesus!” as he finally notices what happened).
Also, people understand when you complain about bad things, because they’re really obvious. No one wonders just what’s so bad about riding a bike through a blizzard or getting hit by a car is. Actually, niether is as bad as they would seem, in my experience.
On the other hand, it would be really nice to have a job that provides health coverage. I’d move to Canada, but riding a bike through a Canadian winter sounds pretty hellish.
My first real job was as the music critic for an alternative weekly newspaper in southern Indiana. I basically got paid very little to have lots of fun, chatting with bar bands and swigging beer. No benefits, but I didn’t have to dress up; I didn’t have to wear shoes at work, if I didn’t feel like it! No set hours – just show up and get my work done, and knock off around 2 or 3 in the afternoon to go home and write, or go interview musicians.
As a perk, I also learned graphic design on the job, so within a couple of years, I was the Art Director as well as the Associate Editor. It was a very relaxed, hippie environment, where free thought, creativity and intelligence were valued. (sigh) I miss it.
My favorite “job” was busking on the street in Jerusalem.
I was studying at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and I was, as usual, a broke college student. Of course, I couldn’t work legally and under the table wages weren’t even worth the time and effort, so I took up busking in the Midrahov (a pedestrian mall). I’m a flutist, and I would play for maybe five-ten hours a week, depending on what I had going on. It was a blast. I met all sorts of interesting people, did it when I felt like it, and made okay money as well. Certainly more than I would have made working illegally. I’d usually busk for a couple hours on Friday morning when everyone was out before Shabbat started and then I’d wander over to the shuk (outdoor market) and use my earnings to buy groceries for the week. It was just a great way to earn a little extra spending money.
While I don’t want to do it the rest of my life, I like my gas station job. Work 8 hours a day, interact with customers, and go home. Most of my coworkers are cool, and I have got probably the greatest boss you could ever have in that sort of work. It’s an independent gas station, so there’s no corporate crap to deal with, just what he wants. And he’s very reasonable in what he wants. Heck, he gave me a Christmas bonus even though I’ve only worked there for a couple summers and this break.
By the age of 12 or so, my parents had secured the make ready contract for the condo/townhome complex we lived in. So, instead of an allowance (actually, I still got one when there wasn’t any work), my older brother and I cleaned carpet, painted walls, learned simple skills in home repair.
We also mowed lawns, since we still had the lawn mowers and trimmers and all that Dad bought when we had lived in the yarded house. So, needless to say, Brother and I had quite a bit of ready cash for 12 and 14 yr olds.
But, if working in family business doesn’t count, the Summer I was 14, I worked on a soybean farm in the middle of Houston. Weird, huh?
He (Farm Guy) had 4 different plots of land, all around Clear Lake City and Ellington AFB. So, after finishing what I needed to do on one plot, I loaded the tractor onto the trailor and drove to the next. Yeah, a 14 year old boy driving a large pickup truck with a 30 foot trailor, often times loaded with heavy machinary through the streets of the greater south Houston area. Enormously cool. The farmer also had this one amazing tractor that was articulated, A/Cd, and auto transmission.
Learned alot that summer. Also saw my Mom’s Commanche blood finally show up in me. My deep tan color is very much on the red side of copper, my face was chisled like the rocks we pulled out of the ground, and my blonde hair (from Dad’s side of the family) was virtually platinum. Quite a striking look that I wish I could recover at least some part of.
ooh, youre a remodel!
What remagazine shall we look for you on?
My favorite (and thats not saying much) was when I was a dancer.
I was a bit old to be one, over 30!
But I knew exactly what to do,no shouting? Do we have such a such a thing in the store?
And it was good,because when I was young,school age, I was considered quite ugly and geeky.
I wanted to be a dancer when older to show I was cool and attractive.
I used to watch Solid Gold to study the dance moves.
When on stage, even if no one was even in the bar, I felt like a star;some people can express music through playing an instrument, some through singing; me-it was dancing.
I am extremely envious of two people in this thread…
I have wanted to be a bike messenger ever since I saw a program about them on TV when I was little. Unfortunately, I have two strikes against me: I’m not close (at all) to a city that uses them, and I have exercise induced asthma
I also wanted to be a professional busker for a time. Yet again, my location has stamped out that dream. Rednecks in diesel trucks just don’t seem to be able to appreciate sidewalk musicians. (that, and I’m not that good, really).
My favorite job was when I worked at a local BBQ restaurant. I got to interact with the customers, run the cash register, answer the phone, etc. It was a typical small-town business, with the owner usually there, and just a bunch of high school students running the place at night. We all got along and had some fun while we were at it, and the dishes weren’t too bad. And that is where I met my husband.
It’s a toss-up. I worked for awhile at a riding school. I fed, groomed and tacked up lesson horses. I got paid in lessons, so it wasn’t a paying job.
But my best paying job was working in a greenhouse. Most of my co-workers were women my age, and for the most part we all got a long, There were one or two who bugged me, but I dealt. The working environment was great - warm and tropical tear-round, with tons of gorgeous flowering plants as far as the eye could see. The work was physically demanding (lots of moving heavy, watered pots around), but I don’t mind physical work. I worked my way up to packer/shipper, that meant walking around with faxed orders and picking out the prettiest plants to send to customers. I loved it when new plants were shipped in - opening those boxes was just like Christmas.
The downside of that job was the long, long hours I had to work during busy times - Mother’s Day week was the worst, followed by Christmas month (Poinsettias) and Valentine’s Day week. Spring season was also very busy, we grew a lot of bedding plants. I would go in at 6 AM to get everything ready, and often wouldn’t leave until after 8 PM. I would run around all day (Changed shoes mid-day, otherwise my feet would give out), and was totally physically drained by the end of the day. But it was great.
It is very satisfying to see something you planted as a tiny plug (seedling) or cutting grow up and be sold.
I was an unpaid intern (no jokes please) for Congressman James R. Jones in Tulsa. At the time, he was the chairman of the House Budget Committee. Constituents would call us with problems that they were having with various government agencies. We would call the offending agency, tell them that Congressman Jones’ office was calling and voila, the problems were almost always fixed immediately. That was a feeling of tremendous power for a junior college freshman.
It’s a toss up. My last job (of 4 years) was creating worlds for video games. Consoles for the most part. I was a senior artist which ment a lot of freedom and a lot of responsibility. It was a job that is both creative and technical which is something I also thrive on… Down side was insane hours (14 hours was a normal day, 18 was getting rough and 20 was considered getting a little silly)
My current job is pretty sweet… I’m doing art for a feature animation now. It’s a huge project with over 300 people working on it. More really cool looking stuff, but less creative freedom and responsibility. Also far less hours and far, far more money. Hmm…
My favorite job was as a DJ at a bar here in Chicago called Tequilla Roadhouse.
It’s a late-night bar that promotes dancing on the bar & upside-down Margaritas in a horse saddle. Mostly dance music.
The bartenders, bouncers & waitresses were all really cool.
Met several girls that way & got free drinks - Tons of fun was had!
When a fight broke out (every other night) I had to announce there was a “flat tire” & the location. That was our code word for the bouncers to take care of business, which they did nicely.
I miss those days - Maybe I’ll stop by there tonight & spin a few tunes for old times sake.
