Second chance?: An important debate on the future of the D.C. school voucher program begins 
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Very specific jobs for very specific times
Time is money for everyone: rich, poor, and in-between. So, for the rich, they can save time by paying others to do things (mow the lawn) while they (the rich) are doing more valuable things (making more money than it takes to pay the lawn-mower). We all do this to some extent, like in the lawn-mowing example, or when we pay people to wash our cars, or when we pay people for food. But that’s too normal. For something less than normal, check this out: it’s a gallery of jobs and professionals who give very specific service to the rich, including a Lady Who Reads the Menus of Where You’re Eating Later in the Week to Consult With You on What You Should Order.
Topic: WorldMagBlog
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back to top7 Comments to “Very specific jobs for very specific times”
I can’t tell you how overcome with joy I am after reading this article.
True Story: I was once teaching a computer class in Portland Oregon. At the beginning of the class, I asked each person to introduce him or herself.
One woman said, “I live on a boat.”
Everybody’s eyebrows went up a little in curiosity. She explained. “Actually, I cook on a boat.”
Then the whole story. A millionaire business owner in Chicago owned a luxury yacht which he kept docked in Florida. He kept a crew of about five people on board. While he ran his company they were free to do as they pleased (besides keeping the boat ship-shape), but they had to be ready to be on duty within a few hours.
Every so often he would decide I need a break from my onerous titan of capitalism duties, call his crew, and fly down to Florida, with a few guests, perhaps, and sail until duty called him again.
The student in my class was a professional cook and a writer. When boss was away, she wrote. When he was on the boat, she cooked. They were in Portland, waiting for him to arrive for a trip sailing to Alaska; she stopped in and took a computer class while waiting for him to arrive.
We truly live in a second “gilded age.”
No good (OK, very little good) will come of this.
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Actually this fits into my life’s ambition. My goal in life is to make enought money to pay people to do all the things I don’t like to do. It’s really quite simple. I love dogs, but i don ‘t like picking up dog poop. I love a nice manicured lawn, but I hate mowing the lawn. I love to eat good food, but don’t care to waste the necessary time to grocery shop, cook and clean up afterwards. You get the idea.
If this is what a gilded age looks like. I want to age gracefully during it.
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It’s pretty sad that people need someone else to decide what they’re going to each at a restaurant.
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A good friend of ours works full time caring for a car collection. We know both the collector and this “car lady,” who happens to be my wife’s best friend. Her job is to oversee the maintenance, prioritize work for the two full time mechanics, oversee restorations, organize transport to car shows (they won Pebble Beach a couple years ago), and generally dust the cars. She sews a mean Packard seat, too. When the owner wants a particular car to drive for the afternoon, she shuffles the cars around to get it out and ready for him to pick up. Another duty is to make sure the 40-some cars all get driven regularly, so she drives a different car each day. Sometimes two. She enjoys here job. I would not want the stress of driving a million dollar car in city traffic.
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#4
In college, I worked on a Chevy assembly line. After I slightly injured my hand, they took me off the line for a week and put on another job. First, they told me to drive cars off the line after they were completed.
Although I had driven a stick shift, it was for a little European car. When I tried to drive a big V8 American car and back it into the parking spot against a wall, I went very carefully and gingerly, terrified of damaging a brand new car.
All around me hot rod jockeys were slamming it in reverse, hitting the gas, and skidding to a stop inches from the wall.
The foreman looked at my dainty, ginger efforts in disgust, shouted, “Get out of the car,” handed me a broom, and told me to go sweep out the latrine, where I couldn’t do any damage.
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America where anyone can dream of growing up and being President but most likely will end up setting up kids parties for the sultan of dubai
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Random Name, I can sympathize. I recently had to drive an old 1973 Mercury Cougar. It is mint, with 57k original miles. There is absolutely no vision out the rear, using mirrors or not. It is clearly an act of faith using reverse, and I have wondered aloud how the little old lady who owned it kept it so damage free all these years. I lack that kind of faith, but I can hold my breath–and did.
BTW: I have this car for sale if anyone is interested. Recently appraised at $11,000.00 Please don’t ban me for the sales pitch. I need to sell it.
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