Easiest Job in the World

It's no lie that I live the good life. While it may be "stressful" at times, I've managed to pretty much skirt through life with minimal manual labor or non-scholastic work on my part. I'm talking, of course, about my ability to only get jobs that are slightly more advanced than what a monkey can be expected to do. In my work career, the hardest job I've ever had would probably be the hellish summer I spent as a camp counselor. Really that was more taxing on my will to live than anything. Ever have a secret desire to become a teenage mother? Get a job as a camp counselor for overprivileged six year olds, it will keep you celibate for years. Other than wanting to stab my eyeballs with rusty nails, all I had to do was craft, sit by a pool and play Where in the World is Carmen Sandiago for hours. Occasionally I would fear for my job future when a kid, who clearly watched too much television, would threaten to tell their mother I hit them if I didn't let them have an extra ice cream at snack time, but really minimal effort involved in that job.

Once I got to Bryn Mawr the work study scene emerged as quite possibly the biggest steal in the world. In exchange for getting up an hour early twice a week and chopping cucumbers, I received a weekly paycheck that was exactly the amount I needed in order to have a bit of fun that weekend. If we were feeling particularly risky and were going to have more than just a little bit of fun, I could easily throw in an extra hour pouring wine for drunk faculty, padding my wallet a bit more. 

After I grew bored with chopping cucumbers I added an additional side job running after soccer balls to my work schedule. This was an even bigger steal, all I had to do was stand still for 5-10 minutes at a time, broken up by brief periods of light jogging. Exercise, sun, and entertainment, all while being paid.

Even my summer job at CES, while time consuming, really involves nothing more than the ability to count and common sense. Count keys, sort keys, set up table, break down table, answer phone, take message, don't ask questions when given a task that sounds illegal. Simple. 

I have completely outdone myself this semester in terms of jobs that make you question your worth as a human. I run the CD player for Bryn Mawr basketball games. 

I started the season running the scoreboard, a surprisingly stressful task. Basketball games are by nature very fast paced, any hesitation or stoppage of the clock results in bad things, such as babies being killed, or at least that's what people made it seem like. I like to think I did a fairly good job running the scoreboard, to my knowledge no babies died as a result of my failures. When I showed up to the following game, however, I was informed that I had been moved over to "music". "What does that involve" I asked my boss. He shrugged and said "Press play when the time out starts, press stop before the time out ends". Wow. Sounded difficult, but I think I could do it. I moved to the end of the table (being ostracized from the side that had people actually relevant to the game, major blow to my ego) and became acquainted with Phil, the 70-something year old man that does the play by play for the 5 fans that come to the games. Phil had a long list of instructions of what songs he wanted played at what point. National anthem before introductions, Jock Jams track 1 (Let's get ready to rummmmmmmbllllllleeeeeee!) after introductions, then tracks 4, 11, 17, 18, 20 and 24 rotating through timeouts as needed. Alright, I could do that. Long story short, I couldn't. I misread the 18 as a 16 and played that instead. Phil was startled and shouted "This isn't 18!" as the YMCA blasted through the gym. I meanwhile was throwing my arms up above my head into a Y shape and was shocked to learn that I had messed up what is possibly the easiest job in the world. Phil thought for a moment, looked around the gym to see people twisting their arms into various shapes (none of which looked like M, C or As) and decided "alright, alright, I think we're ok, they seem to be enjoying this one". I decided the YMCA would be my secret weapon, every time I wanted a power struggle I would switch on track number 16 and go wild. I was ready to whip it out again at the end of the half when Phil caught me and said 'NO NO NO! Number 20....I like 20" So instead of throwing up a Y I was instead bopping along to "nuh nuh nuh nuhhhhhh nuhnuh HEY nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh". Oh well, next time.

The next game brought what has become a tradition, the getting me worked up into thinking that I might be given a job of consequence before banishing me to the cd player at the last minute. My friend Georgia hadn't shown up 10 minutes before the game and people became concerned that we wouldn't have anyone taping the game for future reference (or whatever reason you tape a game). I was told to run across the court (in my muddy boots, which I was later chastised for) and get a crash course in videography. Just as I climbed up the ladder and took control Georgia came running in, bruised from an unfortunate encounter with a patch of ice but nonetheless ready to video tape the game. I was sent back over to the CD player to began another epic power struggle over when to play the YMCA.

Today was a showdown for the ages between the 1-16 Bryn Mawr Owls and the 1-10 Trinity (D.C) Tigers. I raced over from my cousins baby shower, worried that I was going to be late. When I arrived at the gym 10 minutes late I was disturbed to see that I was the only one there. Damn you all. People gradually arrived and sat down at their posts. With 3 mintues to go we had no one keeping the book. The very important job of keeping the official record of fouls, points and time outs. This was my chance, I was called up to the big leagues. My boss sat me down and explained the book and it's responsibilities in detail. I was ready. I was going to rock this job and finally prove my worth to the table. At the last minute the bookkeeper came racing in and my boss turned to me and said "Well, looks like you're back on music!" and smiled a cocky smile. I shouldn't be angry, they really don't need me, I should be happy that he's willing to pay me to do so, and don't get me wrong, I love getting paid for doing nothing, but I had pumped up my self worth and had it deflated all within a minute. I slid down the table and nodded cordially at Phil. Let's go! National Athlem, introductions, "Let's get ready to rummmmmbllllllllleeeee!!!!! nuh nuh nuh nuhnuhnuh NUH NUH NUH NUH NU *abrupt stop, time for the game to begin*". First time out, I decide to go with track 20 rather than track 4, riiiskkkky. Phil tosses me a warning glance, he has no time for tom foolery. During the game I casually mention to Phil that I can burn some CDs for the next game, Phil shakes his head and tells me that's not necessary. Really? REALLY? Nothing really epic happened during the game, but I nearly lost my control on reality when during one of the final time-outs of the second half Phil leans over and says "Play the YMCA....that always gets 'em going" That's a three point field goal for Marianna right there.