I have many friends who are writers, former associates of mine from my newspaper days. Writers, like so many others, are having a rough go of it lately, especially as so many journalists, writers, and reporters have found themselves without a printed publication to write for in the past few years. It makes for a very crowded, competitive playing field.

One writerly friend of mine mentioned she's considering a job at her local library, a job that pays far less than she's worth, but at least it's something. I considered such a job myself and am quite sure that performing the duties of a page at the library would be just fine with me, even though it wouldn't pay much at all. I love books, would be happy to be surrounded by books. A mere smidgen of income would be acceptable in such a circumstance.

Working as a library page is just one low-paying job I'd happily work to help pay the bills while continuing to write. Here are a few more:

5 jobs I would take, even if they didn't pay much

Movie reviewer — As any long-time reader of Grandma's Briefs knows, I love the movies. I go to the movies. Far more often than I can really afford. So if someone were to pay me even just a small amount to go—and pay for my ticket as well—I would happily go to movie after movie and review movie after movie. Even the blockbusters, which are not my favorite flavor of film.

Research assistant — I'm pretty good at researching things. My family regularly comments on how I'm one of the smartest people they know. I'm really not smart, I just know where to find answers to most any question. I'd be happy to find answers for others all day long. That is, of course, unless they're looking for answers related to mathematical mind-benders such as the Pythagorean theorem or some such something or another. I'm a word person, not a number person. Give me research work that results in words and I'm all over that, even if it doesn't pay much.

Elephant feeder — What? An elephant feeder? Well, yes, I'd happily feed elephants at the zoo all day long. Elephants are pretty cool animals. I might even go so far as to feed giraffes, too, possibly throw a few fish for the seals while I'm at it. Monkeys, well, they seem a little too much like humans, which kind of creeps me out, so they'll need someone else to keep their tummies full. But the other animals? I'm there, even for low pay. As long as poop scooping and similarly unsavory tasks don't fall under the Other duties as assigned category in the job description.

Radio disc jockey — I've always had a secret desire to be a deejay. Even if it didn't pay much, I would do that. No one would have to see me, so I think I could be quite charming and effective as a radio personality. But only if I don't have to play any of that screaming <cuss> kids nowadays listen to. I'm not talking about bands like Pearl Jam or Linkin Park or Metallica or music-makers of that ilk; I can handle those bands, have seen those folks live. I just don't want to play screamin' meemies such as ... well, I don't even know the names of today's screamin' meemies, the ones that make me want to scream myself when I hear them on the radio or blasting from a nearby vehicle. Other than those unnamed screamers, though, I'd happily play music of all different sorts, even if they didn't pay me much to do it.

Baby cuddler — Newborn babies in the ICU need cuddling, and there really is such a job. I interviewed a baby cuddler once upon a time, in fact. Baby cuddlers cuddle and rock the tiniest of the tiny babes born too soon or with medical issues of some sort. What a perfect job for a grandma. It's not actually a job at my local hospital, though, it's a volunteer position. And because it is such a fab volunteer position, there are many grandmas clamoring to make a difference simply by cuddling. Which means there's a long, long waitlist of grandmas hoping to be accepted for the position. The non-paying position.

Thing is, I know of an even better position. My grandsons may not be babies, but they do like to cuddle with me, and the position of Grandson Cuddler just so happens to be currently vacant and available. Bonus: There's no waitlist for that specific position! My only wait is waiting for my flight one week from today, at which time I'll head to the desert to do exactly as the position demands—cuddle my grandsons.

Grandson cuddling doesn't pay in ways that help pay the bills, of course, but that's fine with me. It's the one, the only job I would take even when there's absolutely no pay at all.

(Plus, my grandsons are a teensy bit easier to feed than elephants. Most of the time.)

photo: Wikimedia Commons

Today's question:

What job would you take—other than Mom or Grandma—even if it didn't pay much?

Brianna (back) coming down the Candy Cane Slide with her cousin Tiffany in 1987.I live in the mountains. So high up in the mountains, in fact, that I'm within a 30-minute drive of the North Pole. THE North Pole. Where Santa Clause lives.

Having lived in this area the majority of my life, work at the North Pole—Home of Santa's Workshop was a viable employment option when I was a teen. I worked at the North Pole the summer I turned 16 years old and could drive myself through its enchanting gates.

Jobs for teens at the North Pole were aplenty. Teens worked as shop attendants, ride operators, food servers, magician assistants, and Santa's assistants...more commonly known as elves, with the most sugarplum of assignments being Santa's dedicated elf, the one who hangs with Santa in his house and takes the photos of all the good little girls and boys who come to visit him.

I never got to be Santa's personal elf. In fact, I never got to be an elf at all. I wasn't perky, pretty, and personable enough in the job interview, apparently, to have the honor of being named one of Santa's sweeties. Nope, I was named a "front ride operator." Meaning I helped with the rides at the front of the amusement park.

For the duration of the summer, I covered business at the bouncy house, or took tickets and strapped kids in on the miniature car ride or the Shetland ponies walking in an endless circle. The north ride I was assigned to most often of all, though, was Santa's Candy Cane Slide.

As gatekeeper of Santa's Candy Cane Slide, my duties included not only taking tickets and handing out gunny sacks for sliding down in, I had the honorable task of waxing the spiral slide from top to bottom every single morning before the park opened. With a bar of wax, I'd crawl backward down the slide, waxing on (never off) all the whole way. Then I'd grab a gunny sack, start at the top, and shimmy my way down, shining and slicking from side to side with my gunny-sacked tush. Then I'd climb the stairs again, plop down at the top of the slide and take the first slicked-up ride of the day.

Each morning, I reported to duty in my navy blue slacks and red North Pole T-shirt. I arrived uniformed and ready to roll. No need to join the hundreds of girls in the elves' dressing room, giggling and gaining friends (and fodder for future comparisons to Santaland Diaries) as together they donned varied but equally festive jumpers, skirts, pinafores, peasant blouses, vests, jolly tights, elfin shoes and hats.

As I waxed and tore tickets and rescued kiddies freaked out midway down the peppermint spiral, the elves greeted guests with smiles and squeaky voices and frolicked festively about the grounds of the North Pole.

On breaks, I'd enter the cafeteria alone, eat alone, leave alone, while pairs and trios and more of the happy little elves nibbled their nosh together, complaining about their hard work of playing happy all day long.

The elves went home smelling like the candle shops or candy shops or whatever jolly joint they'd been assigned. I went home smelling like sweat from sitting outside the spiral slide in the sun all day long. Or like ponies.

I once was bitter. Today, though, I am bitter no more.

Bubby, Baby Mac and Megan are visiting next week, and today I added to the schedule of Fun To Be Had while they are here a visit to the North Pole. Bubby is the perfect age for hanging with the real Santa in his real off-season digs. For marveling at the reindeer roaming the place. For riding the Ferris Wheel, the Christmas Tree ride, for sliding down the Candy Cane Slide. And for giggling about all the elves happily helping out here, there, and everywhere throughout the North Pole.

When we visit, I will tell Bubby all about Gramma working there. About waxing the slide to make it as slick as can be, then getting to be the very first one to go down it each and every day, savoring the slickness no one else would know. He'll think that's pretty darn cool, I'm sure.

Bubby would not think it's cool, I'm sure, if I told him I were once an elf at the North Pole. For if I once were an elf, why would I no longer be an elf? Slide operators grow up, move on, become Grammas who no longer live at the North Pole. But elves? Once an elf, always an elf. Or that's how it should be. What disgrace would I possibly have brought upon myself to be kicked out of the elf kingdom and made to live in a regular house as regular folk instead of with Santa?

Sharing news I once was an elf surely would get my oh-so-bright Bubby wondering how that could be. Gramma's not an elf now, so how could she ever have been? Is it all just made up? Is the whole Santa story simply a sham? Like I said, Bubby's at the perfect age for marveling at the magic, for visions of sugarplums and candy canes and dancing reindeer and all things great about the story of Santa, the North Pole. I would hate to be the one to ruin that for him.

So if having once been an elf might ruin the magic for Bubby, I'm all for proudly owning up to having been a north ride operator instead. A ticket taker, a slide slicker. There's no shame in that...and may even hold an "ooh" or an "aah" at the nifty job Gramma once had.

So, yeah, I wasn't an elf. Today I've decided that's okay. Today I've come face to face yet again with proof that things—regardless of the disgruntlement they may cause at the time—really do happen for a reason.

Preserving the magic for Bubby is reason enough for me.

Today's question:

What summer jobs did you have as a teen?