Internships are for losers, bro.
Real men get titles, like expert and advisor.
See, my first job was in a bait and tackle shop. It is also my only job. For six years, I have served the residents of and tourists to Ocean City, Maryland.
My official title is “Surf and inshore fishing expert.” I sell bait. And I’m good at it.
Some have questioned the difficulty of my work, but don’t knock it until you try it. Eight hours a day, 40 to 56 hours a week of talking to people who have no clue what they’re doing. Many don’t even want to listen. Here’s how a typical conversation goes:
Customer: “What’s biting and on what?”
Expert: “Kingfish and croakers on bloodworms. Bluefish on mullet.”
Customer: “OK I’ll take some squid.”
It really makes me question why they even asked. Or why I even answered.
While Minaret online editor John Phifer toils away looking for fax machine bar codes and jack numbers, I have tanks full of fish exploding and overflowing. I have little kids playing with 12-inch fillet knives.
For eight hours a day I mind the store by myself. Occasionally they make me work with the new guy. For the record, the new guy is roughly 70 years old.
During these eight hours, I tie fishing rigs and dispense priceless information. Sometimes customers come in and hold out their fishing rod and say, “Show me how to use it.” I rig it up, get them all set, and they walk out the door.
Am I complaining? No, not really. It is a very demanding job to work by myself, but I love it. Desk jobs and internships are for those who lack imagination. Sometimes telemarketers (who are probably without imaginations and sitting at desks) call and ask for the marketing department. I get a real kick out of this because there are fewer than 10 people who work at the store, including the three owners.
When asked for the marketing, or shipping, or financing departments, I give the caller a friendly, “Hold please,” and pause, then pick the phone back up and say, “Good afternoon, this is the [insert department name] department. How can I help you?”
If it’s a really slow day, I’ll tell them they have the wrong extension and “transfer” them to the right one, which is either a dial tone or myself again, in a different department.
I really feel sorry for people who are stuck spending beautiful summer days in office buildings and stuffy cubicles. You only live once, don’t live in a windowless box.
My job is great. Frustrating, but great. I just smell a little different when I get home.
Have you seen my stapler?