You may think unemployment isn’t funny, but

Press, 20 April 1981, Page 8

You may think unemployment isn’t funny, but

By

ANNE McCOY,

of Christchurch

Exploring possibilities tor a job can be fun! I discovered this when I read a book called “On Your Own, 99 Alternatives to a.nine to five Job,” by Kathy Matthews. I found this gem at my local library and as I had just been made redundant for the fourth time, .it seemed to offer new hope. For a start, though I’m able and willing to work, I’m unable and unwilling to work nine to five. As I look through the “Situations Va'cant” each day there are a few positions offering shorter hours. Unfortunately, the majority are for housework or massage, and I consider I do enough of both within my own four walls. Paid employment in either field holds no appeal whatsoever. Anyway, I went home with the book and let the corned beef boil dry while I read it. The author does indeed list “99 Alternatives,” all of them with the added advantage of being self-employed. I suppose if you are made redundant in those circumstances you have no-one to blame but yourself. At the beginning of each job . suggestion details are given of skills required, investment required, location and income. This meant I could discount the ventures which required such things as an ability to cook, a $5O investment, were in Hollywood, or

paid 30c an hour. May I say that this narrowed the field considerably. Some I had to rule out because of my sex. For example, I'd make an unconvincing Santa Claus, and a totally useless sperm bank contributor. There were two suggestions I found very appealing but eventually had to rule out. One was for a small town jailer. Now, Christchurch is not a small town, but I wondered if we could generate employment by establishing suburban jails, such as the-Linwood lock-up, the Cashmere cooler . . . ■ The other idea was’.to set up a lemonade stall. Skills required were the ability to slice a lemon, mix the juice, with sugar, pour it all into a cup and collect money for it. That was within my capabilities, and I quite liked the idea of setting up a stall beside my letterbox. Then 1 remembered my neighbours; not that they think I’m a lemon, just a little bananas. I guess if I’d gone ahead this would have confirmed their suspicions. Finally I whittled the choices down to three out oi 99 bn page 89 was a heading, “Fingernail Farm.” It appears that there is a market in Hollywood for fingernail clippings which the stars use to cover their own chipped, bitten and broken efforts.

All I would have (o do was. sit around letting my nails get long, then post them off taped securely to a piece of cardboard. I’ve never had trouble growing fingernails, and with a little cultivation I could probably harvest a reasonable crop of toenails too. (I’m unsure if there is any demand for these.) The second possibility was employment as a movie extra. No skills required, location anywhere, investment none. Once I played a tree in a Christmas pageant And I was a ghost in a school production of Macbeth. I ruined the whole mood of the play by giggling hysterically intead of moaning eerily. Yes, I think I sliall definRely keep an eye out for a

moviemaker who requires a laughing tree. But the third possibility is probably where I’d most like to succeed. Apparently the job calls for a person with out-going personality, flexibility, and a sense of humour. Other desirable abilities are curiosity, amiability, trustworthiness, steadiness of purpose, tolerance, a canny understanding of human nature, and a strong desire to communicate with and to be aelpful to others. Good health, bountiful enargy, self-control, and great stamina are essential. If I could display even a fraction jf these talents, I’d love to be a 34-year-old , female clown. In the meantime, I am still unemployed.