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Sunday, March 13, 2011
One day I was helping a man stack lumber, and the next day rototilling a garden (with an old lady having to teach me how to do it). After each project, my temporary employer would pay me, and it was up to me whether to report it to the IRS or take it under the table.
The only job that lasted more than several hours, about two weeks, was helping two other men tear down a widow’s old barn. We pulled the nails out of each board and stacked the lumber to be sold as “barn wood” for interior decorating. We used only hand tools, no machinery, and it was one of the hardest jobs I’ve ever had. But to see our daily accomplishments was rewarding, and I always had that feeling of freedom that, if it got too bad, I could always walk away and wait for the next phone call.
One evening, while relaxing with my family, the phone rang and I answered it. A woman explained that she was responding to my ad. Then, after a hesitation, she said in a very sexy voice, “Just what is it you do?”
“Well,” I said in a purposefully unsexy voice, “I tear down barns, and rototill gardens…”
“Oh…” she said, “thank you,” and she hung up.
If ever I’m in a crunch for money again, I know I can always put an “I work” ad in the newspaper. Then the variety-filled, interesting days will begin anew, ending with feelings of accomplishment in often new experiences, and cash in my pockets.
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