Because I’m now a full-time grad student, I’m not really looking for a lot of responsibility, hours, or possibility of advancement, just something that will allow me to make my car-payments and provide something resembling a drinking budget. So I wasn’t really expecting a cushy job auditioning massage-parlor girls or offering tips for women looking to improve their blowjob skills.
But still…my current way to a paycheck is pretty grim. I’m currently paid to wear a horrible hat and bright green vest while defending a parking lot from people who want to leave their cars while they attend court. There’s no shade. There’s no place to sit. Just endless confrontation with society's dregs. And I don't even get to carry pepper-spray.
Basically, I deal with felons who are already irritable because the county has decided to take an interest in their hobby of beating crack-whores with socks full of nickels. All they want to do is lie to the police, run to the bank for $50 in shiny new Jeffersons, and then pay a little visit to that uppity 15 year-old who never delivered on the blumpkin that was negotiated. And I have to say, I’m not entirely unsympathetic to their plight. At least they’re doing something constructive with their day.
So when they park and attempt to dash across the street to the court house, I have to call them back and let them know that they'll be towed if they don’t move. To say that this is an unappealing ultimatum would be an understatement. It makes me about as popular as genital warts at an orgy.
It’s not entirely without perks. For one, it offers an interesting opportunity to experiment on phrasing, voice pitch, and body language. Do people threaten to break my knees less often when I ask them to move or tell them to move? Am I more likely to be spit on when I glare or smile? Does pretending to phone the police elicit fear, respect, or homicidal rage? Plus, there are few jobs I’ve ever had where I really and truly didn’t have to care at all how I dress or look. I wake up every morning knowing that most of the people I encounter will revile me on scale that can only be matched by holocaust survivors for Nazi prison guards. What motivation is there for me to shave or check if my shoes match my shirt? If anything, I seem to get less shit when I look like a man on the edge. I guess people are less likely to fuck with someone who appears to have nothing to lose.
Most of my days are spent in what can only be described as soul-destroying boredom. Granted, it’s boredom that’s interrupted by threats of vehicular manslaughter, rape, degradation of my mother, but even so, most of the time, I’m simply standing in the elements trying to decide how to jerk off that evening. “Hmmm…maybe I should go over-hand-lefty tonight. Or perhaps under-the-leg-two-hand-baby-oil-surprise...But I guess that’s really more of a Wednesday thing.”
My motivation to find a new place of employment is high, to say the least. At this point, angry, gun-toting drifter seems like a saavy career move. Especially since my days will only get worse as winter approaches. I mean, the only thing that would make the job of threatening to tow the ’92 Saturns (which usually have blacked out windows, 4 foot spoilers and spinners) of soon-to-be-convicted felons, is having to do it in 20 degree weather. Now I know that drifters are also subjected to the elements. But at least I might not be threatened as often. Plus I could be drunk and sit down.
Fortunately, I went on a job interview today for what could very well be the greatest job of all time: Office Assistant for a cosmetology school. Sure, some of you think that being CEO of a fortune 500 company, a politician, or even a movie star would be a better. I disagree. As office assistant, I would have no responsibility, no stress and spend all day as the sole male in an office full young, hot women.
If that’s not reason to celebrate with a reach-around-ball-squeeze-two-knuckle-salute, nothing is.
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