my worst job ever: the reverse of the worst

      So, the question is: “What was your worst job ever?”  Certainly, it’s a subject that triggers memories, reflections and musings, but what if you don’t really have a worst job ever?

      I’d guess that my first job was when I was about eight years old, assigned to clean up my room. There certainly were some things about that job that I didn’t like, including picking up toys and clothes and putting them away, and prohibiting me from going in to the TV room, resulting in my missing some of my favorite cartoons.  (No option to record a program in 1958.) 

      But there were also benefits, including learning shortcuts to cleaning up a room that avoided the tedious organizational norms. I’d say the benefits outweighed the disadvantages.

      Then, a few years later, I was assigned the job of being a patrol boy, wearing a patrol belt and helping little kids cross a street at a designated corner. Downsides there included needing to be at my corner at 8 a.m., and needing to stand there in the snow, rain and sometimes heat for 30 minutes at the beginning and end of every school day. 

      Sometimes a nasty job. 

      But the upsides were:

      1. It was expected that I would arrive at school 10 minutes later than most everyone else (a pattern I continued to exercise my entire life); and

      2. I was being given the authority to command the behavior of little kids (a skill I somehow lost once I became a parent).

      In high school, I needed to find jobs during summers to help sock away some resources to help supplement my parents’ savings for my college years. Most notable was the summer that I found a job being a playground supervisor (drawing on my extensive patrol boy experience).  

      I had to be at the playground at 8 a.m. every weekday to help supervise the activities and enhance the safety of kids, come rain or shine. It was OK, but didn’t pay well, so I needed to get a second job for the summer.

      That was working the night shift at a loading dock from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., every weeknight, loading and unloading boxes from trucks and boxcars. Not much fun, but I was able to acquire some savings to help with beer purchases once I got to college. Pretty even trade-off.

      My adult jobs focused on larger community issues—working as a planner in multiple communities across the southeast U.S. Lots of hours, daytime and night meetings, lots of research and details, and occasional running through airports to catch my flights.  

      But the high energy of the job and the opportunities to learn a lot and get creative with new ideas far outweighed the disadvantages.  Also got to sample the definition of “barbeque” that varied wildly in different places.

      Anyway, here I am now facing the job of looking back and recalling what was my worst job ever.  I guess that I’m failing miserably at that task, because my answer is—there was no “worst” job. They all had advantages and fun experiences that tipped the balances in favor of universal “thumbs-ups.” 

      So, I guess I—clearly a perennially annoying optimist—get a failing grade on this assignment.