The Friday Five
04/18/2014All in a days work
1) What would be your dream job?
2) What is the worst job you've ever had?
3) Have you ever volunteered for a job that was more work than your real job?
4) What do you think the worst job in the world is?
5) What is the longest position you've ever held?
Substituting this week for the OP. Have fun and please participate.
My dream job may be happening right before my eyes. I'm compiling a collection of short stories for publication. I've been writing every day in my spare time and as soon as I polish, edit and write enough, I'm sending them to publishers in anticipation of rejection notices.
Right after I earned my degree, I moved to Sarasota Florida and took a position at an engineering firm. The pay was good, or so I thought, but it was, at the time, a very small firm. That meant opportunity and growth, but also it meant I had to wear many hats.
One of our clients was a developer with a 5,000 acre plot of land. It was all scrub palm and pine trees and snakes without any real usable topographical information. We had to know the lay of the land in the most literal sense. The first order of business was to lay out a base line from which we could gather information as to how the land drained.
So I became a member of the survey crew. Each morning we would set up our instruments, drive small stakes called hubs into the ground and hack the undergrowth by machete to establish lines of sight. And each day I would come home with pond scum up to my chest as we crossed swamps and a main drainage canal. Do you remember the movie
The African Queen? At the end of Humphrey Bogart's journey down the Ulanga River, he and Katherine Hepburn found themselves mired in reeds and muck. Bogie got out of the boat, slung a rope over his shoulder and pulled the boat through the swamp himself. On that job, the worst job I ever had as it turns out, I became Bogart. Muck and mire and leaches and snakes were my workplace.
But the worst job has to be road kill collector. I was the Resident Inspector on a highway pavement job back there in sunny Sarasota and each day a crew in a pick up truck would ply the highway collecting the deer and possums and raccoons killed by passing motorists. You could tell they were coming by the gathering odor of their truck as it approached.
Bone collector, ye are damned. Thus sayeth the guy with the leach bites and pond scum stained t shirt.