One Day Careers: Jobs I Kinda Want

There are times when I’m driving, or riding, or flying when I see something, or someone doing something and I think to myself, wow, that would be a cool job to have.  Then, I think to myself, well, maybe just for one day.  For example, I would like to be the guy who changes the messages on the overhead electronic highway signs.  But just for one day.  I’d like to be able to message the drivers with reckless abandon, with no fear that I’m going to lose my job.  I’m sure it’s not a job that people vie for on a day to day basis, but imagine you had the job and you weren’t afraid that your messages were going to get you fired.

Apparently, highway signs are being hacked.  Who knew?

Instead of ‘QEW very slow beyond Guelph Line’, if it were my last day, drivers would read something like ‘Listen Dumbass, it’s rush hour, did you expect it to be fast?’  Instead of ‘Right lane closed at Yonge Street due to accident’ you might read ‘Some crazy bitch was texting and hit the guardrail.  Deploy middle finger as you pass’.

Just one time...I'd love to see this sign.

I’m not even sure it’s an actual job…it could just be a part of another job.  Thank God for the people who do it everyday, I’m sure it’s not the most exciting job watching traffic cameras and keeping your opinions to yourself as you put pre-approved, sanitized, mundane messages up for all the drivers to see.  Once I’d like to see one of those guys lose it like the flight attendant on Jet Blue who deployed the exit chute and ran screaming across the tarmac.  It would make driving so much more interesting.  Maybe if there were interesting things to read on the overhead signs, people wouldn’t have to read their email while they were driving.

Another one-day career that I’d like to experience is aircraft marshall…he’s the guy who waves the orange flashlights at the pilots to help them guide the plane into the gate.  I have a couple of rules on that one, though…first, it’s got to be summer.  I see those folks and it doesn’t look near as fun when it’s -40, snowy and windy.  Second, it’s got to be sunny.  Waving your hands around while standing in the rain doesn’t seem that exciting either.

Fun?  Yes.  Doing it in a parka?  No.

But what could be better on a warm, sunny day.  They get to go to work in shorts, they’re out in the sun, almost like a lifeguard, but without screaming kids and drowning swimmers.  I imagine that you could get a bit creative in how you bring the planes in.  I’m sure there are some required moves, but maybe they can jazz it up a bit…give the pilots a bit of a chuckle.

That's the life...Next stop, Baywatch

Sounds like fun for a day.  One drop of rain and I’m outta there.  As a frequent flier, I really appreciate the work these people do…I’m just not sure I could do it.  At least for more than one sunny, warm day.

I once took a job that should have been a one-day career… I agreed to help a friend entertain at a corporate Christmas party.   She was a clown, and she needed somebody to fill out the clown troop.  It paid thirty bucks for two hours of work.  I was in high school, so thirty bucks sounded like pretty good money, especially in the run-up to Christmas.

Not me, but you get the point

She loaned me a costume and a wig, and we created a face for me.  I had no clowning skills, so my job was to carry stuff and shake hands with the little kids, and hand them their presents after they had a chin-wag with Santa.   We were in and out, and I got home with three crisp ten dollar bills in my jeans.  I was rich, rich, rich.

I said Thirty Dollars

Before I knew it, I was booked for about four more Christmas events.  I had my borrowed costume, and an ever-evolving clown face.  By the end of the holiday season, I was pretty hooked on clowning.  My one-day career had morphed into a part time job without me even knowing it.  My boss, Marshmallow the Clown, put her gigantic clown foot down and told me that if I was going to continue, I needed to go to clown school.

She had to put her foot down

Because of my willingness to help her out on a moment’s notice, she gave me a full scholarship to the JLI School of Clowning, and after two Saturday mornings, I graduated.  We learned clowning etiquette and behaviour, the art of face painting,  and a couple of close-up magic tricks.  I had a Clown School diploma…My major was Birthday Parties with a minor in balloon animals.  What a hoot. 

I would love to tell you that I had some butch clown name like Bozo, Ronald, Chuckles, or even Crusty.  But alas, I graduated JLI School of Clowning as Mr. Glitters.  And I was fabulous.   I was documented, educated, and ready to hit the birthday party circuit.  And hit it I did, with my friends PomPom, Lollipop and Marshmallow.  A quick search of www.clown-names.com today shows 1180 known clown names…Glitterbug, Glitterbell, and Glitterdot.  No Mr. Glitters.

No photographic evidence of Mr. Glitters exists today

In those early days, I got paid 35.00 for a one-hour birthday party.  I would walk in, read a story, do a couple of magic tricks, amaze them all with animal balloons, paint their faces, cut the cake, and take off.  It was a sweet gig.  Some weekends I would have three or four birthday parties.  Pretty good cash for being 15 or 16.

Birthday parties...easy cash

I’ve written about my Dad before.  He’s a conservative guy.  He was leery about the clowning from the get-go.  He wasn’t exactly proud to be the father of a clown, and the worst part for him was when the fabulous Mr. Glitters would need a ride to a gig.  In full make up and costume.  Super proud.  Once I hit 16 and secured my drivers license, surprisingly, Mr. Glitters got the car whenever he needed it for a job.

How to embarrass your Dad and get paid at the same time

Clowning got me through high school with some extra loot in my pocket.  It was mostly weekend work, even in the summer, so I was able to work my other part time job at the same time.  I was able to see how really well-to-do parents would completely blow the wad on a party for their four year old twins, Porsche and Mercedes (I swear that’s true.  I also swear that when I pulled up, there was both a Porsche and a Mercedes in the driveway).  Mr. Glitters wasn’t even the star attraction at that extravaganza…nothing but a balloon-twisting sideshow, playing second fiddle to a drunken magician and an ornery pony.

Why don't middle class people call their twins Ford and Chevy?

I got to meet and work with (or beside them, as a sideshow) some well-known people of the day, including Miss Fran from Romper Room (you remember, Romper, Bomper, Stomper Boo…Tell Me, Tell Me, Tell Me True…I see Johnny, and Suzie, and Shaniqua.  Never Sean.  But she saw Shaniqua.  Often.); Andrew Sachs from Fawlty Towers; Canadian Ballerina Karen Kain and her husband Ross Petty and others. It was a pretty cool job for weekends throughout high school.  

Andrew Sachs with John Cleese in Fawlty Towers

Mr. Glitters had become pretty well known on the party and event circuit, and where I started out making $35.00 for a birthday party, within a few years, I was making $125.00 for the same one hour parties.  Huge clown coin.  I was also getting my pick of the big jobs, traveling as far away as Guelph and even once, Toronto.  That’s big in the clown biz.  :o)

Clown Cash

In the spirit of quitting at the top of your game, I moved to Ottawa for university in 1988, and Mr. Glitters retired, never to be heard from or seen again.  I lost my costumes and my wigs, and I traded the glittery world of kid parties, parades, and grand openings for the equally as exciting world of fast food.  Another of my jobs that was supposed to fill a short-term cash-gap that wound up becoming a multi-year career.  Almost nobody in my life today ever saw Mr. Glitters, and I’m sure many don’t believe he ever existed, so once in a while, for the kids, I bust out some animal balloons and twist up a poodle.