After four months of temp work, I woke up this morning unemployed. Today, there will be no data to enter. I will not populate the necessary fields with the requisite information. It’s back to the job search. Anything is possible. Careers I’ve never considered are suddenly opening up like new flowers in spring.
Softball Umpire: If you enjoy enduring a barrage of insults and having your integrity questioned by drunken weekend-warriors, the good people at Underdog Sports Leagues have a paying job for you. Umpires and referees for softball, kickball, flag football, and dodgeball leagues are in demand. You must show HUSTLE!
Free money can be found anywhere people take their hands out of their pockets or purses. An errant quarter springs from the pocket while retrieving car keys. The rush to find exact change in a coin purse causes a few pennies to spill onto the floor.
Human beings, particularly those with steady employment, are incredibly lazy. The mere thought of reaching down for a dropped nickel is itself tiring. Your willingness to bend your back, extend your arms and pick up the abandoned change could become a mildly lucrative revenue stream.
Good places include under and around:
- Vending machines and arcade games
- Parking Meters
- Salvation Army donation tins
- Curbs where cars are parked
- Cashier counter at shops and restaurants
- Drive-thru windows
- Stamp machines at post offices
- Mobile food retailers (hot dog stands, taco trucks, espresso carts, etc.)
- Roller coasters that turn upside down.
- At the entrance to buildings where people take out their keys.
Now if you are willing to throw your dignity completely to the wolves, you can also try:
- Wishing wells/fountains
- Between the cushions of couches placed on the curb
- Purses and clothing pockets at garage sales
- The sticky floor of your neighborhood peep booth.
If you’re willing to try those, then you probably won’t mind searching for loose change in the ball pit at your local Chuckecheese or fast food play-area. Spoiled children, fat on cotton candy and corn dogs tend to lose change while playing in the ball pit. The challenge is entering the pit yourself, nonchalantly, without attracting notice, and snorkeling for dimes and pennies without someone mistaking you for a pedophile. Good luck!
Many a boy born in the 1970s dreamed of one day growing a moustache. Perhaps it was born from hours spent watching Magnum P.I. get the girl and then drive off in the Ferrari.
Maybe it was from watching Dennis Eckersley shut down batters with Oakland Athletics. Or perhaps it was because the men doing things with unclothed women in those magazines found in the neighbor’s shed all had large moustaches. Who is to say where are our dreams come from?
I don’t know. But I do know who crushes those dreams in their infancy. I know who cut down the moustache tree before it could bear fruit–my wife. Perhaps, it’s because I looked– “like a disgusting pervert.” Or maybe it’s because– “everyone’s going to laugh at you.” Or perhaps because it resembled the men in those magazines or at least what they symbolize. For whatever the reason, I was forced to shave my moustache.
But I ask… If not now, then when? When will the time be so right as now? There are no job interviews scheduled in my day planner. I have the free time and necessary resources to dedicate to the cultivation of a moustache. Why must this dream whither and die?
Oh… I guess that’s why.