Delivery boy
My first real job was delivering flyers in my neighbourhood for “Flyer Force”. Much of what I mention here also applies to my next job, delivering the community newspaper on Wednesdays, a job I shared with my brother (note: third Wednesday of every month was the insert edition… i.e. the papers were huge… coming home to that stack in the driveway was always demoralizing. To this day I do not read the paper). Twice weekly I would drop flyers off on doorsteps. I was paid on a per flyer basis. Some people had a mailbox, for others I would roll up the flyer and slip it into the door handle. I did not deliver to every house because apparently some people have an aversion to advertisement. After delivery I was instructed to call in to a coordinating centre to discuss any problems I had with my route. Someone from that centre would then berate me about some house I missed – it seems that the company did some sort of quality control by randomly calling people on my route to ensure they got the latest news on discounted cans of beans and 15% off bath towels. I was phased out when the company moved to adult delivery staff. I guess children were unreliable and could not be trusted with such an important part of our economy. What did they expect? I was 10.
Lawn maintenance
My neighbour hired me to cut his lawn, front and back. I was be paid 10 dollars each week. This being Canada the work was seasonal, so I supplemented my income by shoveling driveways in the winter. After I cut the lawn, I was required to knock on the door so my neighbour could inspect my work. I guess he had little faith in the ability of a 10-year-old? I eventually lost the job on account that they moved or I got fired… I really can’t remember. I do remember that I did not like that guy. We will put this one in the “hated” category. Perhaps this is why I have an aversion to manual labour (to this day I have unusually soft hands).
Golf Caddie
I had a brief stint carrying clubs at the local golf course. It was a prestigious course that occasionally holds PGA events. Each day I would show up and hope I got picked to work. That only happened once. There was a tournament in town, and I guess they were short staff. I received 8 dollars for 4 hours of carrying around some guy’s clubs. Yes, 8 dollars. That’s 2 dollars an hour (I guess Canada did not have child labour laws in 1987?). It was cash, so there’s that. I guess I forgot to pick up a club the guy dropped at some hole, so I was given shit. The lesson is that if you want good service don’t hire an 11-year-old for 2 dollars an hour.
Bingo hall
This is definitely in the hated category. Every Sunday I would sell bingo cards and collect money at the local bingo hall. I would take off my clothes before going in the house after work and all my friends thought I smoked. Most of the clientele was 50-year-old women who could have been in their late 20s for all I know and much older women who called me “hun” and referred to the colours of the cards in some old timey language. I am still not exactly sure what “mauve” is and how it is different from purple. The manager of the bingo hall accused me of stealing, so I quit.
Cook at local pub
I had a brief stint in the kitchen at the local pub. I did it all – cooked chicken wings and fries, bangers and mash (for some reason we had coq au vin on the menu… who orders that at a bar? Don’t they know it is being made by a 17-year-old?), washed dishes, cleaned the kitchen. The glass on the door of the microwave was missing, so I had to leave the room when I used it. I worked from 7pm until 3am every night for the whole summer. The place was definitely haunted. My boss was an alcoholic. On the other hand, the staff was exclusively attractive 22-year-old women who thought I was cute, and I bought a mountain bike.
Suit salesman
Selling fine quality suits at discount prices to people who needed one for graduation or a wedding. I had 2 shifts each week and made minimum wage or commission, whichever the greater amount. Whenever I came close to getting over the minimum wage threshold for the week my boss would put me in the stock room. He also stole all my good sales. One day he took me out for coffee and told me that I had a real future in suit sales and that at some point in my life I need to grow up and think about that future. I quit and took a job as a student painter.
Student painter
We painted exterior window frames and doors on houses. Occasionally, we also painted interiors. I am scared of heights and I am not a particularly skilled painter. Everyone’s garage door code is the last 4 digits of their phone number. I made very little money. On the other hand, we did go for lunch at the strip club that one time.
Various hospital jobs
I spent the summers and weekends for much of my undergrad years working at a community hospital. That included scanning patient charts on a weird one week morning, one week evening, one week night shift rotation. I also was that guy who takes down your information in the emergency department when you are in distress. The best job was pushing stretchers in the emergency department. I got to see all kinds of disgusting things, learned a lot about people, and the experience provided the basis for my first doctoral dissertation. I was taught medicine, to read x-rays, and occasionally got to do a suture or put on a cast. I also got bled on, stuck with a needle, and occasionally had to pin someone down so the nurse or doctor could inject or insert something. Watching people die sucks and so does having to console people who lost a loved one. I was paid 14 dollars an hour. I bought a playstation.
French educational rock star
I am serious. I bought a guitar and asked my friend if I could be in his band. He said no. I went home, rethought my life, and redefined myself. I came back and stated that I was roc le roc, that I sing in French, and then listed off the names of my songs: Ne touche pas mon pantelon , Vrai ou Faux, and Regardez la Musique (more on that one later). My friend’s mother-in-law was a French teacher at an elementary school and suggested I perform for the kids. I do not speak French and I taught myself to play the guitar, so I asked my friend if he would join me. We paid our drummer for the first gig in weed and our bass player only joined the band because he owed the drummer money (I guess this was penance). 80+ shows later at >450 dollars per show and an album that made the charts at two radio stations (one was the local University we all attended – we topped at number 9, one spot ahead of Rancid) and we were certified rock stars. We could do no wrong. We had three band rules: 1) one show is worth two shows, 2) some money is better than no money, and 3) if you see something you can take, take it... we will find a use for it later (see note regarding bingo hall job). I was the only one not given a mic (because I cannot sing) and my job was to flirt with teachers. The album was called Regardez la Musique, which the French teachers thought clever because we were a live show – I honestly thought it meant listen to the music. Our shows usually ended with 400 to 1000 autographs, classroom visits, and the occasionally hockey game in gym class. Two members of the band would smoke up in the U-haul truck after shows. A 13-year-old girl once fainted when she met me. True story – I quit the band for creative differences.
Biomechanics laboratory scientist
I am skipping some minor jobs in between. I started in the biomechanics laboratory after 3 failed attempts at grad school in that very lab. I was given the opportunity to develop education software to teach undergrads classical mechanics related to human movement. I recruited a friend to help – he is now a professor of biomechanics. We both were accepted into that laboratory for graduate school the next year. For the next 4 years (1.5 years of a Masters degree and another 2.5 teaching) I made 9000 dollars a year. Best job ever. I stayed out all night, woke up at dawn for a 5-10 km run, made my way into school, would have a beer at lunch with my supervisor, get some work done, rinse and repeat. Occasionally, we would play guitar in the lab, and collaborate on some photography projects. Somehow, I finished the MSc early (and that included five months where I was sick with mono). I made extra money by playing after hours poker games at a bar on Wednesday nights… the trick to winning is play with compulsive gamblers and don’t drink. Once a week I would visit my mom, my dad, and my grandparents. Throw in leftovers and I was good for 6 dinners a week. Day 7 was perogies. Women loved me… this is a big deal because they never loved me before, and with the possible exception of my wife, never loved me since. Unfortunately, they did not love me for very long. The administration hated me (and still do to this day for reasons unrelated to my skill as a scientist or my ability to teach) and there was a coup to remove me from my teaching position.
Fashion photographer
I once did a shoot for the Ford Modelling Agency.
Data Project Coordinator in a Cardiac Centre
After the events of the biomechanics lab I had to apply for employment insurance. One of the criteria of accepting that insurance was I had to actively be seeking work. I had just been accepted to physiotherapy school, and it didn’t make much sense to find a job I would only do for two to three months. Thus, I only applied for jobs I knew I would not get. I got the best one. They paid me 10 times what I had previously earned to “raise the standards of the unit”. Much of my time was following physicians and nurses around, learning about how and why they make decisions, and finding ways to cut out inefficiencies. I would mentor eager staff on research design and statistics – we were a large, internationally recognized research institution. I was also given problems that no one else had the time and/or the patience to think about. One such problem led to several academic publications, national tv interviews, and international press interviews. True story – there is a quote out there in a reputable paper where I say, “When people think of radiation exposure they think of superpowers and a third arm”. I eventually lost my job to budget cuts, but that was not a big deal because I had already transitioned into a PhD program. The job got me a substantial down payment for a house, into a prestigious graduate school program, important knowledge about healthcare that integral to the work I do academically, money to travel the world, and one particular project got me into an Ivy League school in New York for a post doc. I only took the job because I didn’t want to be a physiotherapist. Pretty good decision.
Post doctoral fellow
My first job out of graduate school was working on an international project at Columbia University in New York. Interesting for academics, boring for readers. Only interesting thing for this audience is that some of the centres included in the study were from the so-called “Axis of Evil” – centres were compensated for participation in the study (a token amount of no real significance), and the US forbid business with people in those countries. I guess I was almost part of some State Department crime… of course I wasn’t because it was actually not a big deal. We did some useful work.
Statistics consultant
People pay me a substantial amount of money to lie to them or help them lie to other people… apparently.
Assistant Professor and lecturer
I currently hold academic roles at several universities. I got bored so I did a second doctorate, concurrently with my professorship. I teach research design and critical appraisal skills to physicians, both statistics and philosophy of medicine to graduate students, and two undergraduate seminars with a humanities look at science. I also do research and write conceptual papers. I will say nothing good about these jobs for fear that they will see that as an opportunity to pay me less. I will say nothing bad about these jobs for fear that they will pay me less.
Editor-in-Chief of an international academic journal
There is a lot of bad research and people are mean. Occasionally, you read a really great paper and it feels good to help people get their ideas out there.
My students find my accomplishments impressive. I shock them when I say that I would rather be an artist.