Friday Five - 8/23/2002
1. What is your current occupation? Is this what you chose to be doing at this point in your life? Why or why not?
Currently I teach piano. It is not a bad job in the grand scheme of things and quite emotionally rewarding, but it is the only thing I've done, and quite possibly the only thing I CAN do, considering my (lack of) work experience and education.
I also occasionally get jobs accompanying, playing at weddings and funerals. Funerals are my fave.
2. If time/talent/money were no object, what would your dream occupation be?
RMT, piercer, rock star.
3. What did/do your parents do for a living? Has this had any influence on your career choices?
Let's just say there's no chance in hell of me following in the career footsteps of either of the parents.
4. Have you ever had to choose between having a career and having a family?
Nope.
5. In your opinion, what is the easiest job in the world? What is the hardest? Why?
I wouldn't mind being an RMT. Where I get my massages, the room is so small that you get an appointment by leaving a message on the machine and the therapist plays phone tag with you. So there's no 'supervisor', the clients are generally docile, and you work in a quiet, tranquil environment. That sounds like heaven to me. BTW, my massage therapist tells me that my impression of her job is quite accurate, sign me up!
I don't know what's the hardest job, but from personal experience, the worst job has to be a telemarketer.
I hear people saying that they barely made it through an hour of telemarketing...well let me tell you, I suffered through six weeks of minimum wage telemarketer torture one summer! The scam was that we had to book clients in for a free trial ballroom dancing lesson, and if they didn't show up for their appointment, you got in big :shit. I figured it was worse than flipping burgers, because at least while flipping burgers you wouldn't be hung up on and bitched at over 200 times a night. To make things worse, we had no high-tech dialling system, just an ancient phone and torn-out pages from the phone book in the basement (read: DUNGEON) of the dance studio. The receptionist would listen over the phone or have her ear to the door to make sure we were actually working. I finally quit after they threatened to put me on probation because the clients I booked weren't showing up. As if that was my fault...I told them to fuck off and never went back.