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The J Word

Posted on 2006.11.16 at 00:37
Current Mood: cheerfulcheerful
Current Music: Working For a Living - Huey Lewis & The News
Let’s begin with a simple bit of numerology. If I assign a numerical value to each letter where A=1, B=2 and so on, up to Z=26, then take the word JOB and add its numbers together, I come up with a value of 27. If I do the same thing with the phrase BITE ME, I come up with a value of 54 – exactly twice the value of the word JOB!

Pretty spooky, isn’t it? Coincidence? Please! There are no coincidences!

I’ve had a lot of different jobs. I’ve gone into some detail in other postings about those, so I won’t recount them all here. But there’s one I haven’t mentioned before, for two reasons: 1) I didn’t do it for very long; and 2) It was, without question, the worst job I’ve ever had. Worse than unloading ruptured fertilizer bags at the hardware store. Worse than delivering phone books (trust me, that job sucked). Nope, the worst of them all was Process Server.

If you want to get technical, a real process server is a sheriff or deputy who serves a summons on behalf of a court of law, whereas I was doing it in the employ of a lawyer who was the father of my best friend from high school. In either case, it’s not a good job. The process server is not the guy you’re happy to see at your door, even if you’re innocent and not charged with any wrongdoing.

Let me tell you about the worst moment I had. It was the “Aha!” moment when I realized that I didn’t want to do this anymore. Ever. I had to deliver a summons to a fellow on the lower east side of Detroit. For the benefit of my Detroit readers, I’ll get more specific: A side street off of Chalmers, below Jefferson. The recipient lived in the upper flat of a two-story house. I had to walk around to the back yard and climb a rickety wooden staircase to get up to his door. When he answered my knock, I saw that he was young, fit, and surly, muscles bulging on his shirtless chest as he glowered at me through the screen door. At that moment, I realized that I was standing on a tiny porch with about a 3-foot railing, and all it would have taken was a quick outward thrust of that screen door to send me crashing to the earth far below me. At that point, however, I had little choice but to hold his gaze and calmly request that he sign a piece of paper and return it to me. To my great relief, he did so and I left without incident, but that was it for me as a process server. At the end of the day, during which I had served 3 or 4 of these notices, I was given a check for $40 for my trouble. I looked at it and thought, “There have got to be better ways than this to make forty bucks!” Indeed there are.

But I want to put it out there – what’s the worst job you’ve ever had, and how did you get out of it (or are you still doing it)?

P.S. Using the formula I described in the first paragraph, note that the word SUCK adds up to 54 – the same as BITE ME! This could be the next Bible Code!


meryddian at 2006-11-16 16:14 (UTC) (Link)
YOu are soooo being metaquoted for that first paragraph. ;)
charlesofcamden at 2006-11-16 18:37 (UTC) (Link)
Well shucks, I'm honored!
(Anonymous) at 2006-11-20 22:21 (UTC) (Link)

Worst Job

Hey, Chuck! This is your brother.
The worst job I ever had goes back to the spring of 2000. Unbenounced to me, I was to collect donations door-to-door for a non-profit environmental organization. I traveled to the western suburbs of Detroit with about a half-dozen others. I worked for all of one hour and
made $10. Our group seemed kind of down on the ride home
because the trip wasn't very profitable for any of us.
On the other hand, I was very happy because I knew I would never do this again.
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