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The Cushiest Job Ever

© Douglas Charles Rapier

I was thinking today about the array of undertakings I have in play here in Taiwan. (It's nothing like my friend, Robert - I can't begin to fathom the criteria by which he decides which of his myriad projects to tackle on any given day.) One night after I'd had one too many triple lattes in a 24-hour period, I tried to compile and cross-reference a list of my 'irons in the fire'.

First, on the list was my job as a teacher of English as a foreign language to children. This position is as close as I have ever been to 'loving' a job. It's a part-time position that pays full-time wages and I'm my own boss, for the most part. The down-side is that I teach 6 days a week and my class-room hours are in the evenings. To some, (many?) I suppose that sounds dreadful, but my heaviest work-day is 5 hours long and I never take the job home. It's like being semi-retired, actually, and the schedule allows me loads of free-time to fill with projects. Writing this article, for example.

That started me thinking about another job I had back in the States. It was a full-time position with a state university which shall remain nameless. I lucked into what had to be considered one of the 'cushiest' jobs ever. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't high paying. Hell, it wasn't even interesting except for its rather peculiar nature and the level of performance it demanded of me.

After schlepping text-books for a few months, I was told by a friendly department manager that a less taxing post was about to be vacated. There was a man, Walt, leaving his post after decades of dutiful service. Walt was in his mid-70's. He had just returned to his job after recovering from hip-replacement surgery. He was also very nearly legally blind. He couldn't hear very well either and had a slight case of palsy. He decided that he'd had enough of his working life and chose to retire while still in his 'prime'.

Walt's job was to conduct a perpetual and continuous inventory of supplies, goods and equipment in the facility. He hobbled around all day, for years before his hip replacement and for weeks afterward, every day, counting stuff. Big stuff like desks, tables and cabinets. Little stuff like pens, pencils, envelopes and sheets of paper. Teeny-tiny stuff like push-pins, brads and paper clips and mechanical pencil leads. He counted it all - thousands upon thousands of items. Then, when he reached the end of his list, he would start all over again. Counting.