Page 50 September 2012 By Greg A. Bruns Dear Reader: I had no idea this was go- ing to become the fi rst of a two-part series but here we are. The best is yet to come in the October issue. Until then, Happy La- bor Day. To me, Labor Day is more than just a three-day weekend stretched into four by calling in sick on Tuesday. This holiday makes me think about all the different jobs I’ve held to get me where I am today. My work ethic was activated by my grandfa- ther, Jack Hanson, who had a small farm in Anderson, Indiana. I remember spend- ing time with him working in the yard and out in the fi elds, harvesting corn, apples, melons, berries, root vegetables and leafy greens. When I think of him a few things fl ash through my mind: lying in bed, anxious and wide-awake at dawn, waiting to hear the creaking of fl oor boards to punch through the utter silence, so I can join my grandfather and start the work day. Next, a hearty breakfast courtesy of grandma, who fried eggs in old bacon grease, kept in a Crisco container in the fridge. That cold, solid, milky-white fat with chunks of ba- con in there makes me shudder to this day when I see a can of Crisco. Heading out to the corn fi eld through thick grass, loaded with dew that collected on my jeans; the obligatory straw hat; a super-cool, yellow International tractor he would let me drive. And at lunchtime, the quenching of thirst with the bittersweet chill of Lipton sun tea, mixed with the earthy tang of well water – real water free of chlorine or other unnatural elements. Yep, that was the best job I ever had, but here are the others I have to compare it to, in order: Flyer Boy (John Finkbinder, Realtor) Castleton IN I was 8 or 9 years old when I got my fi rst paying gig. I pedaled through all the neighborhoods within a two-mile radius of my home every week, attaching fl yers to screen door handles. I remember be- ing paid 1.5 cents per fl yer. This equated to about $5.00 a week. Only one problem: dude paid me in stamps, encouraging me to become a stamp collector, only he called it a philatelist. Whatever. Sounded like something else that worried my parents. Weed Puller & Yard Boy (Self Employed) Scottsdale When it’s 112° outside and your yard hasn’t been touched in over a month, what do you do? You hire the 13 year old red- head from down the street, who will mow the front for $5 and the back for $10, no matter how long you wait in between mowing, because he’s not real smart. He’ll even pull weeds for a penny each if you’re a jerk about it and tell him how you used to pull them for free because it was part of taking pride in your work – and you do take pride in your work, don’t you? Delivery Boy (Pennysaver) Scottsdale Eyeing the stack of 1000 papers and my little BMX bike that I was going to deliver them with, the lady said, “Don’t just go out and dump these in a dumpster down the street. You’re being paid $20 to deliver these and that’s a lot of money.” After she found some Pennysavers in a dumpster down the street, I was fi red. It wasn’t me – really – but what are you going to do? I had become accustomed to telling people, “My Dad is a lawyer and he’s gonna sue you! ” and that didn’t seem like the best option at that time, circumstantial evidence being what it was. Paperboy (Scottsdale Progress) Out of all the things I’ve done, being a pa- perboy most prepared me for future careers by putting me in front of a cross-section of American society... and then asking them all for 50 cents a week. If you didn’t pay on time, your newspaper would be rolled tight as a steel bar, and triple-banded. Until you paid, the aluminum portion of your screen door was considered fair game and would be my target each and every day. I’ve never heard a sweeter sound than that of a well- thrown, tightly-wrapped newspaper as it gongs those cheap screen doors. Telemarketer (Scottsdale Progress) I’ve had a lot of bad jobs but trying to get new subscribers by dialing them at dinner- time is pure masochism. I made two calls one shift – both to friends – and was vis- ited by the supervisor. The conversation was brief and the bike ride home was glorious. Bus Boy (The Brown Derby) Scottsdale The job description should have read: You will pick up plates, silverware and glasses that other people have soiled in the process of cramming food into their disgusting bod- ies. You will be expected to travel at the speed of light once diners have left the table, but you will not – under any circumstances – touch, or receive, a tip. Expect all tables to be fully “cookie monstered” and at the same time, expect the entire dining room to stare at you with repulsive sorrow. If you are over the age of 30, you will wish you stayed in school. If under; stay in school! The last straw: this was back in the days before smoking ordinances, mind you... with a bus tub teetering with slimy dishes, an old guy in a cowboy hat stops me on my way back to kitchen. “Hang on a second there, partner,” he says, as he proceeds to torpedo his Pall Mall into a half-eaten mountain of mashed po- tatoes and thick-skinned gravy on the top plate. The potatoes turn into a miniature volcano as the cigarette slowly extinguishes on my walk back to the kitchen. Not surprisingly, The Brown Derby would be my only foray into the food ser- vice industry. Look for Part Two in October! Reach Greg via e-mail: greg@arcadianews.com.

AWA R D W I N N I N G N E I G H B O R H O O D N E W S S I N C E 1 9 9 3 Health Wellness & & Get yourself in check with our “think pink” edition of Arcadia’s Health & Wellness Directory. & & desi desi g g n Featur e d Inside Regal Elegance Rock House Anytown, USA Find out what’s happening around town with our preview of can’t-miss events. Arts & Culture Exclusive coverage of Titan Football both online and in print. Look to arcadiadaily.com for the latest! Photo by Dale Messmer FOOTBALL! Peek inside some of Arcadia’s most enviable properties in the November issue of Arcadia Home. & desi desig n Coming this FALL...