Jobs From Hell
October 20, 2003
Have you ever noticed how, when people get to talking about jobs they'd hate to have, they nearly always start with trash collector? Not I. There are lots of worse jobs I can think of, and so could you if you just took a moment. For instance, I'd rather collect trash than be a fireman. I mean, where do they find these guys? Is there a hiring hall for saints?
Talk about an off-putting job description! Wanted: Young men willing to risk their lives every day of the week going into burning buildings, armed with an ax and clad in rubber boots and a helmet. Talk about taking a knife to a gunfight!
Furthermore, you will be required to carry heavy, panic-stricken strangers down ten-story ladders. It sounds like a hazing stunt for a fraternity from Hades.
Or how about being a major league catcher? How would that appeal to you? Spend six months a year crouched behind batters, trying to catch 95 mph fast balls, 90 mph curve balls and 65 mph knuckle balls that are as hard to catch as they are to hit. Then, just to break up the monotony, every so often you're called upon to block the plate in order to prevent a 230-pound former linebacker from scoring. The hands of former catchers have been described as looking like bags of walnuts, they've been busted up so many times.
But the very worst job of all? So far as I'm concerned, that would have to be as a member of Jesse Jackson's entourage. Have you ever noticed that whenever he shows up for one of his patented demonstrations, he's got a dozen or so sullen-looking individuals, not counting his bodyguards, lined up behind him? Their obvious purpose is to visually suggest that Jesse is speaking for someone besides Jesse. I used to think they were freelancers he hired in the various venues. But I have come to believe that he actually carts them along. It makes sense. Why leave it to chance? What happens if you get to Cleveland, say, and all the lay-abouts are at a ball game?
What if the cameras are ready to roll and Jesse is up there without his backup singers? Think how naked the Emperor of Corporate Extortion would look?
But think, also, what a terrible gig it would be having to stand there, posed behind the reverend, trying to look attentive, trying to stay awake, while listening to the same tiresome tirade time and time again?
And while we're on the subject, how is it that Mr. Rainbow Coalition only seems to hire African Americans for his sideshows? I know that Jesse is forever chasing after that legendary pot of gold, but that's certainly the oddest rainbow I've ever seen.
©2003 Burt Prelutsky
