If you think Labor Day is about commemorating all the women who have ever had babies, you’re wrong. That’s Interdependence Day. (Thankya—thangyaverymuch. I’ll be here all post.) Labor Day is where none of us goes to our job as a way of celebrating how great it is that we have a job.
I personally don’t have a job. I write for a living. Which means I don’t have to shave. And if you don’t have to shave you’re not really employed, no matter what G. Everett Koop says. I have had regular, Must Shave jobs, though. In fact I’ve had over 60 full-time jobs, which I know is Beyond Bonkers. But it’s been my confounding experience that people who hire you to do something expect you to do that thing—and that when you don’t, they come find you. And then I have to put out my cigarette, or stop eating, or whatever. (I used to smoke. But I quit once I realized how rewarding it was to overeat.)
The first real job I ever had was Recreation Leader. It was summer; I was 15 years old; and the City of Cupertino, California thought they should pay me $3.50 an hour to play in the park, which I would have done for free. The only catch was that I had to wear a whistle—which, again, I would have blown for free. Being a recreation leader is the greatest job I ever had. I don’t enjoy knowing that the best job I ever had is one when I was 15, but what can I do? I got paid to eat popsicles. Can it go anywhere but down from there?
The worst job I ever had was selling encyclopedias door to door in the ghettoes of East Oakland. People who live in ghettoes, as it turns out, are not overly interested in acquiring one new volume of knowledge each month for two years at $50 a pop. Instead, what they’re interested in is popping you on the side of your head for being so stupid as to suggest that they have $2500 lying around to spend on an encyclopedia.
Actually, I found that selling encyclopedias in ghettos doesn’t make people want to beat you up. It makes people feel sorry for you—which makes them invite you into their house, which makes you spend hours hanging out with them and enjoying their refreshments and listening to their awesome music and totally giving up on going back out in the terrible heat and trying to sell encyclopedias.
The Oakland apartment I lived in at the time was below the building’s penthouse, which was occupied by a guy who supplied half the cocaine to East Oakland. Half. To all of East Oakland. This was in 1975. I was the only white guy in my building. One day I got stuck in the elevator alone with Leon, the dealer from upstairs. He was, as always, working the full-on Disco Pimp outfit: outsized fur-trimmed hat, shades, shiny blue silk suit, cape, walking stick, Giant Shoes. Now it’s kitschy; then, it was Actual Fashion. Leon was about five foot six. I was pretty wholly terrified of him; he had serious power. There never weren’t ten Cadillacs in our parking area, driven by some of the endless numbers of people who’d come to see him. Leon, the dealer and pimp in town, was pretty much King of East Oakland.
The job I then had was selling shoes at a Kinney’s shoe store, where I got paid in cash every Friday.
When the elevator we were in jerked to a stop, Leon didn’t move. He didn’t flinch; he didn’t wonder why the elevator had stopped or when it might start again; he didn’t say a word. He just stayed leaning against the wall, as inscrutable as ever, quiet behind his sunglasses.
I, meanwhile, immediately got involved with trying not to have a heart attack.
At some point Leon slowly turned his head to regard me.
I was seventeen.
I began nodding at him frantically—in the way a parrot might signal a greeting.
“Nice shoes,” I said.
Very slowly, and with a maximum lack of expression, Leon brought one finger up to the nose of his sunglasses. He pulled them down a little, the better to see me. He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.
“You know you white, right?” he said.
I looked down with shock at my arm. “Am I?! My God! I am! What the heck am I doing in this neighborhood?Ha, ha, ha. Please don’t kill me.”
He didn’t. He ended up inviting me up to his place. Which turned out to be the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever seen.
Anyway, right. Labor Day. When none of us has to work. But reading is a lot like work. So let’s just stop this right now.
Posted by Dereck on September 1, 2008 at 7:14 am
Ok, so I just have to tell you.
And it will be so cool to tell you because I’m sure no one ever bothers going to blogs and leaving little tiny sentences that are, while completely genuine, almost meaningless because of their seeming lack of profundity which is clear because of their length. Nevertheless:
You’re just an amazing awesome writer.
Posted by Michael on September 1, 2008 at 7:33 am
Reading: work? Well, ok, sometimes, but that was not work.
Posted by Kelly on September 1, 2008 at 8:56 am
OMG, I think I watched that same movie on HBO last night – around 2:00 a.m.! :0
BTW, I would LOVE to write for a living! That is one of my two dream jobs! Luckily, I have recently made a career change (after being on staff of a church for 13 years) – resulting in me getting to have a job that I have always dreamed about – in the medical field!
Well, I am off to celebrate Labor Day by painting my formal dining room! :0
Posted by Greta on September 1, 2008 at 10:24 am
Ditto to what Dereck said! Keep doing what you do best…writing!
Posted by Robert Sessford on September 1, 2008 at 11:07 am
I’ve just started wasting my time reading and commenting on blogs on just one website (crosswalk.com). What you wrote is, perhaps, the only refreshing piece I’ve come across. A white kid stuck in the elevator with a black crime boss? Wow, that’s almost like the Son of God being incarnated into a completely disfunctional and violent world, but finding friendship.
Love to read what you have to say about the general theme I’m picking up … that the only thing God really cares about is focusing on the (nuclear) family and that policy on finance, foreign affairs and social welfare can be draconian so long as there are laws against abortion on the books. Blessings, Robert
Posted by Robert Sessford on September 1, 2008 at 11:15 am
* please excuse the “parallel” white kid/Son of God. I meant to draw attention to the extreme difference between you guys, not that white=holy.
Posted by David Barach on September 1, 2008 at 1:41 pm
John rightly focused this post on the true unsung heroes of the American workforce – the enterprising entrepreneurs who do whatever it takes to make sure that their workforce has the job-security they need. American small business owners are the backbone of American labor. They are the ones who don’t ship American jobs overseas, and are active in their communities.
Leon specifically, as John established, is one American small business owner who isn’t ashamed to wear the uniform of his industry to prove that he cares about his people. He was generous to John, his neighbor. Without his diligence, the mules, dealers, lookouts, and pushers, who worked for him would have no work, or would have seen their jobs taken over by illegal immigrants. Leon is what labor day is all about. He’s a true American hero.
Posted by arlywn on September 1, 2008 at 7:11 pm
gotta love drug dealers with a sense of humor… thank …. that you have a sense of humor… he might of shot you if you didnt. lol.
Posted by John Shore on September 1, 2008 at 9:18 pm
Dereck: Thank you so much. What you’ve said means a great deal to me; I really appreciate it. Thanks.
Michael: Again, thanks. I really appreciate hearing this.
Kelly: Elsewhere on this blog I’ve written a bit about making a living writing, if you think searching that out might be of any help to you.
Greta: God bless your good heart. Thanks.
Robert: Thank you for your very kind words. But I’m afraid I couldn’t quite follow the “general theme” you asked me to comment on. Which I’m sure is a problem with me, not you.
David: Stop being so weird.
Arlywn: I wonder if Leon had a gun on him at the time? I never thought he did—just BEING him seemed like all the protection he would need—but that’s probably naiive. He was probably packing heat, as … Mannix would have put it.
Posted by Christine on September 1, 2008 at 9:28 pm
Why does NZ not get a labour day?? Is it because Southern Hemisphere people don’t work enough to warrant a holiday?? Well, I guess it evens out because we celebrate the great monarch (or not) Queen Elizabeth’s birthday and get one day off for that.
John my man, you make my werisome days a funny place with your blogs. I look forward to getting them just so I can have a giggle. You are very funny and very talented. Did you do some writing courses to become a writer?? How do yuo get your stuff out there?? Interested cos have a few books but no big publishers are interested and the small ones get you no exposure!! Would love to hear your thoughts on how to make it as a writer
Posted by Kelly on September 2, 2008 at 5:41 am
Thanks, John. I will check out those – I’m sure – very insightful posts.
My biggest frustration with writing is having ADD. The thoughts and ideas that need to go into a book – always hit at the most inappropriate times – i.e., driving down the road, grocery shopping….you know! Trying to get my thoughts organized is really difficult.
I am actually working on a book about the healing that God did in my marriage – and my family! It was a miracle – and the things I learned could be applied to anyone – and their personal walk with God. Just gotta get the thoughts organized enough to get them into print!
Posted by Mormon Soprano not logged in on September 2, 2008 at 7:29 am
John you are so hilarious – and a great writer! I’m like Kelly, I would love to actually get paid for all the time I spend blathering with my keyboard.
The first job I ever had was being a newspaper deliverer starting at age 11 which continued until age 16. I had an afternoon route during the week after school and then 4:30 am on Sat and Sun. Every day. Rain, shine, sleet, snow…if I had to take a day off, I was responsible for finding a sub and training them. I started with 50 papers and eventually had 200 – rode my purple Schwinn bike with a banana seat and a newspaper bag over the handlebars. I was paid 5 cents a paper. Crazy. But I was in heaven to be an independent contractor so young and have cash to save. I also had to collect from my customers every month. (they don’t allow that these days – way too dangerous) I took a lot of pride in that job. Every paper was porched (ok, I admit a few ended up on the roof or the flower beds) Thankfully my customers loved me and tipped well. What an experience, though! So much responsibility for such a young person. It taught me a LOT. I had some weird experiences as a worker, and some scary ones. When I was 16 I worked as a waitress the late night shift (what were my parents thinking?) I was nearly raped by my creepy boss one night. (He was soon after arrested for raping and impregnating his own sister) But I never got caught in an elevator with a crime lord in pimp garb – that tops everything! Life sure offers us interesting adventures and learning experiences.
Posted by Mike (FVThinker) Burns on September 2, 2008 at 10:30 am
In a previous post you said you were a “Professional Christian”. It sounds job-like to me.
But anyway…you said “over 60 full time jobs”…SIX ZERO!! Wow!! You should donate your brain to science! There has GOT to be some unusual wiring in there. Better yet, go get into some neurological study where they do Functional MRI scans.
I know that Sam Harris is doing studies on belief and non-belief. I think it is called “The Reason Project”…it could make for some good blog post fodder.
My first job was to heat sauces, grind cheese, and cut onions and pepperoni for a pizza parlor before business hours. I didn’t get tips and got paid a whopping $1.25/hour…and all the cheese and pepperoni I could eat. And, yes, slicing industrial quantities of onions is as bad as you can imagine. I knew the pay was terrible, but it was a friend of my dad…what could I do? I then moved up to graveyard janitor at a K-Mart for Friday and Saturday nights my senior year of high school. That should tell you what my social life was like.
Posted by KJ on September 2, 2008 at 12:46 pm
Please, PLEASE tell me this is a true story!
Posted by Robert Sessford on September 2, 2008 at 8:18 pm
John,
the general theme isn’t one I see on your blog… Sorry for being unclear. I was referring to the general theme I see on some blogs at crosswalk.com. Although I’ve been a Christian almost 30 years, I’m a neophyte when it comes to right wing Christian politics in America. Do these people really think one can be pro-life and torture a man to get a confession? But what’s your take?
Posted by Candace on September 3, 2008 at 6:53 am
Oh sure! Make a statement like someplace being the most unbelievable thing you’ve ever seen, and then END THE POST.
Such a tease, you are.
Posted by John Shore on September 3, 2008 at 4:34 pm
Hey, guys. Thanks for the wonderful comments. Been a tad under the weather today; spent the day mostly on the couch, watching “Frasier” DVDs.
Christine: Funny stuff. No, I’ve never taken a writing course. If you have trouble finding my posts here about writing, let me know and I’ll send you the urls for them.
Kelly: A lot of writing is about getting your thoughts organized. Which I’m terrible at doing. So maybe never mind on that.
Mormon: My first first job, when I was a kid, was bouncing along in the back of a cold, stinky truck in the wee morning hours and dropping off bundles off newspapers to where newspaper kids would later pick them up.
Mike: I used to work at a pizza place, too. It was … a job.
KJ: Yes, the story is true.
Robert: At this point, is anyone in America really a neophyte when it comes to right-wing Christian politics?
Candace: Yeah, I should say what Leon’s apt. was like. I should write that, really. So I will!
Posted by simmons on September 4, 2008 at 8:03 am
Nice post about Labor Day i.e. where none of us goes to our job as a way of celebrating how great it is that we have a job.
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simmons
http://www.christian-drug-rehab.org
Posted by Christine on September 4, 2008 at 1:26 pm
Hey John, fairly knew to this blog of yours so will look around for the ones on writing
. Have to say though did kinda shoot myself in the foot with the publishing thing as I was gonna get one published but was about upbringing and decided that it would hurt way too many family members so the day before I got the go ahead I burnt it. Don’t think they will want to publish me any time soon lol
Posted by Alcohol Rehabilitation on March 25, 2009 at 2:30 pm
Haha ^^ nice, is there a section to follow the RSS feed