Well, another tax deadline has come and gone.
By now we've all done our celebrating for checks received, or moaned over the checks we had to write.
It leaves me with only one question (besides "What does the government actually DO with all of that money?).
What happens to the Liberty Tax Statue of Liberties and Uncle Sams on April 16?
Is there a race every year to New York City, where they each grab a milk crate and try their luck at being real statues? Where they must stand completely still while silly tourists take their pictures and try to get them to laugh?
Even though I appreciate what the Liberty Tax folks do, (especially on days when the 20 minute drive home from school proves to be too much for the bickering, unhappy children, and the statue is a bright smiling face who is happy to see me as I wave enthusiastically from the driver's seat) I cannot think of a worse job for me.
But if the guitar playing, dancing, singing, smiling, and waving are any indication, these folks do enjoy their jobs. Even on cold, wet days.
It is not for me.
I've had some jobs in the past that others may find awful.
Like the summer I worked for the Ohio Department of Transportation. My job for the entire summer was to pound rust off of the plows and trucks to prepare them for painting. I loved that job! Oh, the joy of finding a large, deep area of rust to destroy with a hammer.
When I was 15 I worked at our insurance agent's office. At first my job was to put all of the info from the files into the brand new computer system. That was a huge deal! No one had computers in their houses, and I got to use one every day I worked.
But then a new responsibility was added to my list. Sucked the fun right out of working there.
There I sat, too young to even drive, calling people to let them know that if their premiums were not paid, their insurance was going to be dropped. Didn't really get to talk to very many nice, happy people with that job.
The worst day, when I swore I would never make one of those calls again, was the day I called the dead lady.
I dialed the number, and a man answered. I told him who I was and asked if I could speak to Miss Late Payment.
He replied, "She died three months ago."
I managed a quick, "I'm so sorry!" before I slammed the phone down. (Remember when you could slam a phone? Pushing an off button just doesn't have the same effect.)
When I hung up, I turned to one of the agents in the office and told him what happened.
His response, "Well, where's the car? It still needs insurance."
Since I was only making $2.50/ hour, quite a bit below minimum wage, I could actually refuse to make any more of those calls.
Recently, a friend told me about her worst job ever.
She drew blood from birds all around Indianapolis.
Early in the morning, she would go out and set up nets. She then sat and waited until a bird got caught in the trap.
They weren't catching birds in lovely, park-like settings.
She had to wait in rats-the-size-of-a-cat-infested warehouse districts.
And once the bird was trapped, she had to grab it, take some blood to test, and release it.
Over and over and over.
That's a bad job.
Hubby had a terrible job when I was first dating him.
He worked in a meat-packing plant. And oh did he stink at the end of his shift. I had to pick him up from work a couple of times, and my car was never the same, despite having the windows rolled down the entire drive.
There is a reason God made each person on the planet to be different.
If we were all the same, so many jobs wouldn't get done.
If everyone were like me, for instance, there would be no septic tank emptiers, no dog groomers, no exterminators, no bee keepers, no attorneys.
As far as I'm concerned, those are nasty jobs.
Thankfully, not everyone is like me.
Some people actually like doing those jobs, or at least don't mind them.
I sometimes wonder what awful jobs my kids will have as they get older. What will they even define as awful?
What was the worst job you ever had?