So far in life we have all had jobs that hopefully have filled our coffers with chook. Or in other words we have had jobs that filled our pockets with coins. That’s why we work isn’t it? For the paycheck. Getting paid whether from an employer or from a customer, it is all work for pay. We work, we get paid. It’s a great system. I used to have this very cute rubber stamp that I used when I sent out bills from our machine shop many years ago. I usually only stamped it on bills that might have been overlooked by the recipient, wink, wink. Oh yes, I too was on occasion one who would have a few bills that were “overlooked.” It’s the way of the world. The stamp? It read, “Please pay us so we can pay them and they can pay you…” See? The way of the roundy round world. That is why we work. For money. I find it so fascinating when I think back at all the jobs I have had where I made that money to live life to the fullest. Just a few days ago I remembered one that I had actually forgotten all about. How does that happen? I mean I didn’t have what you might call a “real career.” Like working for a big ole company for years and years and climbing a ladder to a peak, get a retirement and all. No I just floated from hither and yon doing jobs. All of which I really enjoyed. Especially on payday. As I said, that’s the way of the world. But how many have I forgotten? Well if I remembered, they wouldn’t be forgotten would they? But this one really was one I had forgotten all about. Recently I was waiting in a vehicle in a parking lot. I don’t do that enough. The waiting game. I am usually the one going. But! Yes a calmly waiting “but.” As I sat there I watched the people coming and going and because it was in front of a clinic at a hospital there were a lot of people on the move. Quite a pleasant thing, as I enjoy people watching. Not spooky or weirdly watching. Just interestingly watching. Now you have to know that where I live taxi traffic is non-existent. Actually I have only seen one taxi in Eureka, where I live, and all I could think was, “Wow. I wonder what that ride cost!” The taxi was from Elko, some 120 miles away. I didn’t think a meter would even go that high. Clicking along. As I sat waiting for my friend a taxi rolled up to the clinic door and the driver got out and helped a lady get a bag out of the back of the taxi. The driver collected the money and as the lady passenger went into the clinic the taxi started to pull away. Then it stopped and I watched as the driver got on the radio inside the cab and talked to who I supposed was the dispatcher. Then she hung up the mic and put the taxi into gear and drove off to the next fare. All pretty straight forward. Then I had a light bulb moment. Something popped into my brain. Something I had actually forgotten all about. A job I had for less than the time it would take to burn a candle at both ends! I was a taxi cab dispatcher. It’s kind of a fuzzy memory. I do know that it was the graveyard shift. Actually I only took the job as a favor for a friend just for a night or two. But doesn’t that count toward a job in my repertoire? I mean if I were to ever have to write a complete and comprehensive resume couldn’t I list “taxi cab dispatcher” as a job? Then in seeing that I was a cab dispatcher I might qualify to dispatch anything. Oh man, I could extent that to become a truck router? I could even stretch it to seem that I was qualified to move mountains! OK, that’s broadening my horizons just a titch too much, even for me. Each and every job I have been lucky enough to have gotten I put my heart and soul into. Even when I was the one writing the paychecks I hope that I kept my word to each person I worked with when I told them I would never ask them to do something I wouldn’t do myself. I mean come on, have you seen the inside of a septic tank? I have. Oh, what a job that was! Trina Machacek lives in Eureka. Her newest book, They Call Me Weener, is available on Amazon.com or email her at itybytrina@yahoo.com to find out how to get a signed copy.
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