April 4, 2008
Everyone has a dream job, whether it’s stuffing envelopes in the comfort of your own bathrobe, or walking dogs for the elderly in the hopes that advancing senility will result in an inheritance accidentally willed your way.
For the drinking set, the definition of a dream job is simply one whose rigors can be forgotten as soon as they’ve skipped off two hours early for a ‘dentist appointment’ that involves convening at the billiard hall happy hour.
For the seasoned boozer, whose grocery bills are regularly eclipsed by liquor store hauls, scouring want ads for new employment is daunting, especially as emergency savings are pissed away buying rounds for the lady who tap dances on the bar.
A Winsor, England man, posted a gig that is by any tippler’s definition, a dream job, and one that, like the forklift guy in the warehouse who spins around in circles, involves drinking on the job (and not the kind of ‘get paid to drink’ gig that requires a CAT scan or your ability to memorize conversational Spanish scrutinized behind a two-way mirror).
The job poster, who recently put his father in an assisted living home and was concerned that pops was too far removed from his mates, put the notice up in the local job office, seeking a twice-weekly drinking buddy for the old timer, to the tune of $14/ hour, plus “expenses”. If these expenses include buying a round for everyone in the bar because you can’t believe your good fortune, we’d be willing to submit our CVs and regale the old cacker with tales from our book, The Man Who Scared a Shark to Death and Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery. We’d only ask for a pub with a nice big fireplace, two woolen sweaters and pipes to be smoked during our readings.
According to the son, who is likely going to be left out of the will by pawning the old codger off on some neighborhood rummy, his 88-year old pa is “a very intelligent man with a physics and math degree.” At least it won’t be that much of a challenge calculating how much to leave in the tip jar.
April 4th, 2008 at 2:58 pm
Man. 88-years-old! It would be tough to find someone who shared common ground with the guy. I mean he’d consider somebody in their early seventies to be an opinionated young whipper-snapper