By Clyde

“What do you want to be when you  grow up?”

That was the most-dreaded question at every family gathering that we felt compelled to answer. Just give me a chance and you’ll see. No 4-year-old kid knew he or she wanted to be a systems analyst or a computer programmer. To “do hair” was good enough.

Genesis 46:33 says, “And it should come to pass, when Pharaoh shall call you, and shall say ‘what is your occupation?’”

Many people did what their family did. They owned it, and it owned them. “And because he was of the same craft, he abode with them and wrought; for by occupation, they were tent-makers,” states Acts 18:3.

Not much call for Hotwire repair those days or nuclear warhead rocket scientists.

Some jobs are non-essential.

Painters, coopers, gunsmiths, ferriers, silversmiths, potters, “able-bodied, hardy and stout men, very religious and greedy after land,” the displaced Germans and Sotch-Irish arrived here early on and set up shop on Corbin Street, now Main. One-third of the people of Rowan owned any slaves. Only one person owned more than 100 slaves.

Where were their patient advocates, soccer coaches, faith-based activists, voice coaches, talent delivery specialists, chiropractors, plastic surgeons or the probation counselors, sarge? Who needs them now?

How did we manage to make the transition into the workforce. A few of us are still working on it. The average Joe changes jobs at least 12 times in a lifetime. The average millennial will change jobs about 60 times if they keep up with the trend.

Mistresses change jobs about every six months, no tips.

Then there is the lonely entrepreneur (In French, to undertake, one who organizes, manages and assumes the risks of a business). “Monkey business” in 1855 was used to label shenanigans.

In a real business, it takes a task force to fill all those shoe orders, not just someone in a room with no windows, sitting at a terminal, surrounded by styrofoam cups, fast food and bottled water.

You need a few pictures on the blank wall and a song in your heart to put a spring in your step.

Lonely laptop lame brains are the losers of a lost legacy we have inherited from hard-working, pencil-pushing class leaders we sweated for, literally.

Your guidance counselor may not be able to find you a job based on your God-given talent, work ethic, sensitivity, physical and emotional health or personal appearance and ethnicity. It’s your information technology skills that count.

You may be more suited for a few of the more ridiculous job titles — seminar facilitators, alternative methods of compliance, product emergence specialist, sanitation engineer, media distribution officer, education nourishment consultant, snake milker, pornography historian or hair boiler. Warning, some jobs may overlap.

Unscrupulous occupations are not something we aspire to or have to apply for. How do so many go down that weary path to self-destruction and why don’t they listen when we try to guide, save, mentor, test, change punish and forgive them? They must be “in it” for something else. “Mr. Opporknockity” comes but once.

The product fits the need. The country store offered what they had and we used it. Dollar General has nothing you need for survival. Amazon does not offer personal customer service. Long gone are the well-kept sales ladies who met you at the double doors of Oestreichers to politely ask, “May I help you?” Also gone are the welcome, toasted chicken salad sandwich at Carter and Trotter Drug Store after the 10 cent movie at The Victory.

Where are all those customers who were always right? It was their job to make you feel needed and special. They needed you to keep their job, in turn.

The three most stressful occupation are broadcaster, firefighter and the armed forces.

As Anne Coghill wrote,

 

Work, for the night is coming,

Work through the sunny noon;

Fill brightest hours with labor,

Rest comes sure and soon.

Give every flying minute

Something to keep in store;

Work, for the night is coming,

When man works no more.

 

Clyde lives in Salisbury.