Would a job by any other name smell just as sweet?

What’s in a job? Does there need to be payment?

Cash, ducats, affections exchanged.

Does there need to be an exchange of tangible goods?

Care, food, health, love.

I was once a secret keeper. I was terrible at that job. I didn’t know which ones should be kept and which ones thrown away, whispered and carried away on the wind, which ones to bind up in my heart and which to shout out.

Needless to say, I’m a terrible judge of character.

I also spent a summer smearing cream cheese on bagels. This was before there were tip jars on counters.

My first paid job was babysitting. I probably wasn’t very good at this either. Sometimes, I suspect that parents confused “good at babysitting” with “available and cheap, relatively.” Oh, and a girl in roughly the right age range.

I even convinced myself that perhaps I really had a gift, a purpose. And so I ended up a teacher for a while.

I’ve been an assistant editor, a research assistant, a sandwich maker, a camp counselor, a guide for a group of teenagers traveling, a creator. Those are things that I’ve more or less gotten paid for.

Is getting paid a requisite for a job?

Because the job I’ve had the longest is a mother but I don’t get paid for that. I’m told it is its own reward.

I don’t get paid for this either.

Still, one must carry on. Job or no job. Paid or not. And so I do.

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