Grammar Nazi.
Unique means one of a kind. You can’t have degrees of unique: most unique would be better described as “most unusual”.
That being said a lot of the jobs described are almost “most unique”.
We’ve gone around this bush many a time. Like the Real Nazis, your position is both obsolete today (at least in the US) and unpopular with the victors. Give it up.
(Says the guy who got lambasted for backing the “fort” camp in the recent fracas about correctly pronouncing forte’ as “fort” or “fortay” :))
Shows I don’t get here that often anymore. Pronounced “fort” isn’t it? 
Unique up on it.
I never thought to ask, possibly the only way to know for sure was to see it in person?
YAWN.
Nothing quite so exciting. My first job out of college, in 1998, was for an Internet training company. They needed a bunch of text to use in a course on web design, so they asked me to write some boilerplate about a fictional amusement park.
I took a company laptop to New Orleans, where I spent a week sitting in a cafe watching traffic and writing about ImmortaLand, amusement park to the gods. I have never had so much fun in my life.
It was a real long time ago, so the details are fuzzy. If I recall correctly, no one was home the first day I did it, and I returned unscathed, so it was allowed to continue. One of those “better to ask for forgiveness than permission” kind of things.
I haven’t really had any very unique jobs but I have had a few unique assignments. I used to build wooden masts for sailboats, my boss was the journeyman and I was more of a helper but I did everything and could do one from start to finish by the time I left. We did a large mast for a recreation project on one of the ships in the Columbus fleet, that was fun.
I was also called in to build a giant bow for a Leanardo DaVinci catapult being built to full size. The bow was actually more of a c shape and it worked beautifully.I spent three days as a phone psychic.
It was 1993, and I was a broke college student. I wasn’t psychic, and I didn’t think anyone else was, either. But for $9.00 an hour, working evenings and weekends, I figured I could be psychic.
When I got hired, I hadn’t known how many desperate and vulnerable people take psychic readings seriously. I’d get callers asking if they could get their kids back from the county, whether their husbands would ever stop beating them, or when they’d get a place to live. I spent plenty of time telling callers that my psychic senses said they should call their social workers or shelters.
Nor had I realized how badly psychic phone hotlines take advantage of the mentally ill. I’d have people rambling, ranting, or praying at me about their encounters with angels, devils, or aliens, for $5.99 a minute. (Somehow, I never got calls from supernatural or extraterrestrial beings talking about their encounters with people. Go figure.)
Because the FCC considered psychic phone lines only borderline legal, we couldn’t keep callers talking for too long. If a caller stayed on the line for more than 20 minutes, the call center would lose all the money for the call. So the job of a phone psychic was to keep a caller on the phone for 19 minutes and 58 seconds. (Because some of the timers on the phones had a slight lag, hanging up at 19 minutes and 59 seconds could be risky.)
However, people could call back as often as they’d like. So I ended up listening to Reginald, one of my mentally ill callers, for an hour or two each day. Here’s how all those calls would go:
Debbie (the receptionist and call router, privately to me on the headset): I have Reginald for you.
Me: OK. (It’s not like I could have refused, anyway.)
(slight click, as Reginald is connected.)
Me: Hi, Reginald. How are y-
Reginald: I am READY to ASCEND!!!
Me: OK. Ascend to whe-
R: I am READY to ASCEEEEENNNNNND!!! I am RREADY to ASCEENND!!! I am RRREADY to ASCEEENNNDDD!!!
Me: Sure. So–
R: I am RRRREADY to ASCEEEEEENNNNNND!!! I am RRREADY to ASCEEEEEENNNNNND!!! I am RRRREADY to ASCEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNND!!!
Me: Uh, Reginald, have you taken your medica-
R: I am RRREAADY to ASCEEEENNNNND!!!
Repeat, with slight variations in rhythm and volume, for a total 19 minutes and 58 seconds. Then I’d hang up.
Within the next hour or two, I’d get another call from Reginald, who wanted to make sure I was fully appraised of his READINESS to ASCEND!!!
It took three days until the moral wrongness of the job really sank in. Then I quit. Besides–my boss wanted to me to do three days of unpaid training on guardian angels, which, apparently, were really popular with callers. But I had classes during the days, so I said no. Which meant they were going to can me soon enough, anyway.
I’ve had some other unusual jobs, but this was the strangest of them, IMHO.
How did you get hired as a Grammer Nazi? How was the pay? Did you have to be evil first, or did they let you train on the job?
Very interesting. The job is called animal masturbator.
Unique now, or unique then? I used to set pins in a bowling alley after school. I bet nobody does that anymore, but it wasn’t very unique then. I was a TV news anchorman for a decade or so. Despite its visibility there aren’t many people doing it.
Oh, wait, I did a couple of stints as a call screener for Rush Limbaugh.
That must have been fun.
glee, that episode is on Youtube.
I managed the stand vending (“Ice-cold beer”;" hot dogs - get yer hot dogs") for a minor league baseball team. I also personally cooked every last kernel of popcorn sold on the premises every home night (and than involved some fairly delicate gate projection numbers; you don’t want a wasted mountain of the stuff at the end of the evening). I also did the usual beer/soda pulling and nacho/crackers/chips vending from the concession stand, AS WELL AS changing out spent soda tanks. Did that for two seasons. Hard work; fun times.
I’m guessing that was a whole other level of interesting if not fun.
In high school I ran a mobile cleaning service that specialized in cleaning cattle trucks. Oh, the joy of sluicing out and scrubbing clean an 80’ trailer filled with cow shit on a hot summer day.
I also held a bonded PI license for a few years.
I did that for a while. Mostly hand-lit stuff. Set up shows, lit them off, refilled the mortar tubes with additional shells. Did a couple electric shows - always started of with “Shave & a Haircut” in reports.
I’ve also done a lot of event production, everything from pro sports national championships to major parades to Grand Prix events to local 5k’s. If you’re American, you’ve most likely seen my work.
This past fall, I was involved with the Pope’s visit, which had me & my car going thru Secret Service checks - bomb-sniffing dogs, two agents checking over/under/in the car; if it had a hinge it was opened - including hood & glove box.
I also worked in a (neck) tie factory one summer in high school.
Nothing much to match any of this stuff. After finishing high school I took a year off did od jobs before getting serious and getting a real job.
One of the places I worked for a while was a seed company. They’d put 10 of us in a van drive us out of town where they had a few acres planted out with a seed crop and off we’d go.
Rougeing Sorghum was one of the weirdest ones. For that, you got given a hoe (not a Ho), and walked up and down the aisles of the Sorghum crop and cut down any plant that had a head noticeably taller than the others. Apparently this was so when they took the header through they didn’t get any stalk in the seed.
So spending the day walking around a paddock in 40c heat stopping every now and then to whack a plant that had the poor manners to grow too tall.