Sep 04 2002
Job One
All this post-Labor Day job talk has gotten me thinking about jobs in general, and mine in particular. Mostly the past, though, because present job is not of interest to millions or particularly unusual. I have never had a totally fun job, possibly because “fun job” to me is an oxymoron and/or because I think you have to have an actual talent you want to get paid for in order to have a fun job.
The two most amusing jobs I ever had were in my teens, and were my earliest jobs other than parental-imposed chores. How very sad, come to think of it. [Pause for reflection on extreme pathos of that statement.] Anyway, here’s the first one:
Baby sitting, aka au pair Surprising, isn’t it, for the baby-averse? But bear with me. All will be revealed and you will envy me. My father worked at a marine biology lab in Maine in the summer. The year I was 16, a married couple from France came to work there, too. They had two hellion kids named Olivier and Thierry, who in addition to their outstanding hellion qualities, couldn’t speak English, which was an unbeatable combination from their point of view.
O&T: 500 Babysitters: 0.
I had taken French instead of home ec at school, so my Dad volunteered me to baby-sit O&T. I was so successful in whipping them into shape, along with improving my French, particularly vernacular, that they invited me to reprise my popular role at their place outside of Nice the following summer. And they were good for it. So at 17, I went to France for the first time. All by myself.
First stop, Paris for a week, where friends of O&T’s parents – actually, their college age sons – showed me a very good time. Then TGV to Nice, to stay with the family in their big white house overlooking Nice. I had a little tower all to myself, with a sort of bed/sitting room and bathroom and a balcony. This was also the first time I encountered featherbeds and my bed was so high that it had three little wooden steps leading up to it. I acquired a caffeine addiction from meeting espresso which endures to this day, as does my love for France.
So basically, all I did was keep them amused and out of trouble at the beach, in Old Nice, at the markets, at the museums, and I had weekends and evenings off to get into a little trouble myself. You call that work?
Stay tuned for Job Two. Maybe tomorrow if current job doesn’t interfere too much.
2 Responses to “Job One”
I strongly disagree that you have no talents to speak of aside from domestic ones. You are a writer, Suzy. Whether you get paid for it or not; whether you think of yourself like that or not; whether you do anything with it or not — you are a writer.
Half the people online claim to be writers, and most of them have said or done nothing that supports their claim. Your talent can be seen simply by reading your blog. It’s evident in every entry, every sentence… even down to the words that you use and how you can describe mundane tasks in such a way that make them extremely interesting.
Perhaps you don’t think you’re a writer because you’re surrounded by them. John is a writer. Alice is a writer. But so are you. And you should get to work on that novel, missy, because I think you’re ignoring your true calling.
I agree wholeheartedly with Candi. Number 1, because she’d beat me up if I didn’t, and number 2, because she’s abolutely RIGHT!
You have an amazing ability with words, and that’s why I keep coming back. It’s a rare person who can write, drawing people in so adeptly that they feel as if they are right there, inside and close to, the people and places you describe.