I absolutely love being a Firefighter/EMT. Yeah, I spend most of my Saturday nights awake at the department. Yeah, we have to clean, sweep, mop, wash, and polish a whole lot; but damn I’ve never had so much fun in my life. We get to drive really fast, run into burning buildings, deliver babies, and take care of people.
That and its also my worst job – Having a little one die on you, his parents expecting you to do something to save his life, just to have to be there when the doctor tells them their 2 month old son has died…uncool.
Probably it was when I was stationed over in England, Crew-chiefing A-10 Warthogs. It was a lot of fun working with them, and knowing we were the pointy end of the spear during the Cold War added a sense of urgency to the activities.
After work on Fridays I’d go throw darts at my favourite pub.
In grad school, I had a research assistanship that required me to take frequent trips to Key Largo and the Bahamas for SCUBA diving expeditions on the coral reefs and mangrove lagoons. Not a job, I guess, because it was a part of my program; but hey, I did get paid for it.
my favorite would have to be when I was a patio boy at the local Kmart. I worked there second half of my junior year until the second half of my senior year. I would sit around back in patio either waiting for a customer, waiting for a break, playin some football with the guys from electronics, flirting with either cashiers, or 07’s (girls that work in clothing), once we covered an entire register with duct tape, whenever Dave, one of my bosses, was there we’d walk back to the break room and watch the simpsons, one time the pallets were stacked high enough to climb up on the roof, that was a great experience it was like a great gravel wasteland up there, never any piss tests, and I made more money there than any other job a high school kid could have in town.
My best job was ALSO my first. I worked as a pizza delivery boy for three years, two continuous (junior and senior year of H.S. and the summer between my first two years of college) and I still miss the job.
Basicly, when I started working there I had this boss that was kind of a prick (OK, a HUGE prick) but I wasn’t a screw-up, and the money was pretty good (on good nights I could clear $100 in tips, plus I was getting $5.00 an hour in wages PLUS it was all under-the-table) so I didn’t mind it. Then, his wife divorced him, and he was forced to sell the business, and it was bought by this REALLY cool older greek couple. I had already been working there about 8-9 months, and these people were awesome. They treated employees like family, and we got along great. After about I woas pretty much the only person who remained from the old owners staff, and I pretty much did everything around the shop. If they needed someone to run the registers, or make cheesesteaks, or make pizza, I could do all that. I absolutely loved that job, and it made me sad when I had to leave it. My dream is that many years down the road i will be able to retire and open my own pizza joint, and it’s all because of my first job.
Summer of 1996 I had just started the job I have now, was incredibly unhappy and frustrated because I didn’t know what I was doing at ALL.
To top ot off, my boss knew it but kept telling me I was going to “be a Star!” Talk about pressure. Apparently he was right, but I’m starting to grow a prima-donna sized attitude, which I am trying to control. Sometimes successfully, other times not.
Being a professional graphic designer means you have to network like a motherfucker. Sometimes it pays off, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes… well, your name gets out there.
About four months ago I got an email, followed by a phone call, followed by another email message… from an American based smut site. Apparently they needed someone to optimize photographs… tons of photographs… of people doing things to each other, so they could go onto his website.
Now, I’m 20 at the time. This was nothing short of an adolescent dream come true. But that’s not even the funny part.
The operator of the site is a professional photographer in New Jersey. Obviously, this porn thing isn’t his day job: he graduated from Barnum & Bailey’s Clown College. He’s a friggin clown! I mean, he’s a mild mannered children’s entertainer by day, and by night he’s photographing Amanda Glamazon shoving things into places that would make the sword swallower blush! One of the nicest guys I know, though. And a great sense of humor.
By and far being a Camp Counselor at an all girls camp was the best job I’ve ever had. ( Guys, wipe that sick little deviant grin from your faces, we weren’t all busty long legged bimbo’s named Candy.)
It made up for the debacle known as k-12 and I learned then and there how to have fun, annoy authority and shoot arrows while really drunk. ( By the end of summer we were Robin Hooding the targets with outstanding precision.)
I also walked about 5 miles a day in sand. What I wouldn’t give for that work out now.
The pay sucked. $500 for the entire summer and we were suppse to be grateful for it.
And they wonder why the staff robbed them blind of anything that wasn’t nailed down.
Spent my years right out of college doing historical research for a novelist. It was a dream job:
I set my own hours.
I got paid to read/research.
I got an introduction to the world of publishing (which led to a couple sales of my own).
No dress code, no office politics, no middle management.
Decent paycheck.
Unfortunately, it also had no room for advancement, no retirement plan, no medical benefits. When I got married, I had to move on to “real” work. sigh
