There’s bad jobs, and then there’s bad jobs.
Yet when faced with a slew of bad jobs that range from porta-potty cleaner to tollbooth taker to late shift urinal serviceman to bottle-capper — it seems that I have recently unearthed what I believe to be the worst job on the face of the Earth. A job that, when you really get down to it, has zero perks or positive aspects to it whatsoever.
That job? Being a parachute packer.
While you can find positives in some jobs, like the quiet time you have to yourself or the fact that some really boring jobs allow you the time to slowly get your real dreams in order, the job of actually just packing parachutes in preparation of people jumping out of planes has got to be devoid of positives.
Some people, of course, will tell you that individuals who possess the ability and skill to fold cloth into really small spaces (think “flag folders” and “napkin folder waiters”) might really enjoy the repetitive job of folding, securing and zipping up parachutes at a local airfield somewhere in middle America. But while flag folders reap the benefits of seeing said folded flags grace funerals and patriotic events… And while napkin folders see diners’ faces light up when they catch errant crumbs of food with said folded napkin… And while cruise ship workers, skilled in the art of making your towel look like a goose, then putting your sunglasses on said goose so when you come back to your cabin you freak out, giggle in their cabins knowing just what they’ve done to disrupt your evening…the parachute packer is a lonely, thankless, potentially tragic job.
Here. Take a look. I’ve done the math.
- I pack your chute really well and you take it, not knowing I packed it in the first place. I’m some faceless parachute packer and all you care about is that your chute opens. Which it does. Which doesn’t do me any good whatsoever. Parachute packer gets screwed in this scenario.
- I pack your chute really well and you take it up, jump out of the plane, and the chute doesn’t open — and then I’m just the stupid parachute packer who didn’t pack your parachute correctly, and I potentially may even be indicted in some huge murder trial or insurance payout scam. Parachute packer gets screwed in this scenario.
- I pack your parachute, but since I’m fed up with not being recognized for my skilled-packing, I bring you the pack and when I hand it to you I tell you that I packed it personally for you. Which makes you nervous. Which makes you think I’m either crazy or hitting on you, which could be construed as sexual harrassment — which may very well get me fired. Parachute packer gets screwed in this scenario.
- I pack your chute quietly. I don’t talk to you at all. I just pack pack pack pack and then go sit in my little office in the back with the TV that has no cable — just an antenna. I also probably end up having to label those damn videos of you people jumping out of planes so when you get back down you have something to remember your entire experience by — which of course was all the result of my superior parachute packing. Parachute packer gets screwed in this scenario.
In the beginning, and in the end for that matter — the parachute packer never gets notoriety (unless it’s bad), never gets attention (unless it’s bad) and never gets any positive “good job” verbal reinforcements from any of the clients because being a parachute packer means you’re better when you’re quiet, you don’t cause any problems, and you just pack pack pack those parachutes like a robotic automaton.
That’s why I would never want to be a parachute packer.
I just hope you understand.