Inspired by the thread on earliest memories, I had to share this tidbit.
When I was 5 and people would ask the inevitable question, “So what do you want to be when you grow up?” I would answer, “I want to be a garbage man.”
Yes, a garbage man.
My logic was that Yes, it was a dirty, smelly, disgusting job. But they only had to work one day a week. And I’d rather be home playing 6 days and working one day, than doing what my dad did and having to work 5 days a week and only playing 2 days.
Made sense right? Everybody knew that trash pickup was Thursday. And every thursday like clockwork, the garbage truck came by to empty our barrel. So that meant they must have the rest of the week off. It seemed fair to me. Why else would anybody pick such a nasty job?
I guess my parents got tired of thinking it was cute that I kept saying that, and when I was 6 my mom broke the news to me that they really had to work all 5 days a week. … Poor sods. I’ve pitied them ever since.
Anyone else have a good “I want to be a …” story to share?