My Dream Job
Quite a few years ago, back when the Pencil Factory was “the” new bar in the neighborhood, my buddy Rachael and I took great delight in patronizing said establishment. The service was good as was the atmosphere— but these were not our only reasons for knocking back beer at the there. We had another slightly ulterior motive: watching all the Mobile Wash Unit trucks go by. As these vehicles would pass we would muse over how this had to be the greatest job ever.
Of course our idea of what makes a “dream job” is a little different than most. We were not so much interested in cleaning the streets per se. Rather, we relished the many ways we could abuse the power that comes with operating such a piece of machinery. Hurling bars of soap and blasting some of our neighborhood’s more hygienically disturbed citizens while screaming:
Go ahead and report us! We’re Union!
was easily our favorite scenario. In fact, we were so enamored of the Mobile Wash Unit we considered basing a drinking game around the spotting of their vehicles. Then we realized the depot was only two blocks away and that this game would probably be too short to be any fun.
Besides, we needed to be able to walk home.
I mention the previous because this week I saw a man with the Department of Sanitation’s anti-graffiti unit busy at work on West Street. He was having so much fun I wanted to join in.
Operating a sandblaster while listening to Kiss!?! It simply does not get any better than this. I wonder if this guy dances when no one is around? I can only hope so. Hell, if listening to Kiss* is one of the fringe benefits of working for the Department of Sanitation’s anti-graffiti brigade I’ll work for free!
What’s more if this stretch of sidewalk (three blocks away) is any indication, they could probably use me.
*Motorhead (I would insist on singing along with Lemmy Kilmeister on “Ace of Spades”), AC/DC, Van Halen (Diamond Dave only), Iron Maiden, Juda Priest, Black Sabbath, Ozzy, etc., etc.