One of my best nights ever was at Aussie wine festival (not whine) and I was drunk after 50 mins ,best 16$ I ever spent.Now I can see the nickname of course.How much do you drink a day in this Utopian world.
what do people do for a living?
(87 posts) (39 voices)
I'm a freelance copywriter, and will prostitute my art for anyone. Tends to be high tech stuff, but I've just written copy for websites about mail order chocolate, secure shredding, travel insurance and a Thai restaurant. Augment this by doing proofreading work for a publisher of travel books. I work from home, and half the garage has been converted into an office. My desk is two filing cabinets with an old door on top. I can look down the garden and see my vegetables and the greenhouse. I have an iMac to work on, networked to an old G4 as backup.
I have an iMac too; great, aren’t they?
@Guffaw. The trick is to drink and taste wine without being pissed. My record, as a tasting judge, was about 150. I try to limit myself to one bottle of decent wine a night - I call it homework. Owning a wine shop just means you drink better wine and therefore don't get a hangover. See:
One bottle a wine a night is still going some,we used to that on top of beer,last few years though wine has become a distant friend(economic reasons).
I take it you were spitting the wine out.
Wayland - i've PM's you but your inbox is full. Possible job opportunity.
Oooh, Waylandsmithy and I are "cut from the same cloth". I'm a technical author too. Though my software manuals are fascinating of course.
BJ, you're not -a--- --r--, are you?
Veterinary surgeon, specifically orthopaedic, spinal and soft tissue surgery, which I take referrals in from other practices.
Unfortunately many tend to be rather on the hurry-up, hence just got in having lost most of my Saturday to a perforated ulcer in a Old English Sheep Dog.
Work far too many hours with far too much pressure and seriousness, hence gallows humour and cherishing this site for cynical witticisms.
Until the end of March this year I was a Probation Officer. For anybody of a North American persuasion that roughly equates to Parole Officer. I say 'roughly' as, unfortunately, I didn't get to have a gun. With hindsight that's a bit of a pity because I really could have slayed those worrying reconviction rates.
Earlier this year, as a Public Sector worker (**), I could no longer cope with the intense shame of personal responsibility for the worst economic cris since the 1930s (other crises are available). I therefore decided to walk the plank in a selfless contribution to reducing the nation's fiscal deficit. So, redundancy and early retirement then.
To be frank, the 'final numbers', as I understand they are known to any of you financial chaps, didn't quite stack up to the promise of Gold Plated Public Sector Pensions -as reported every once in a while in the Daily Mail. On my final day at work I had a later than the usual 7.30am start having paused at a local Carluccio's restaurant for a rather tasty scambled eggs and mushrooms on toast (I can't spell pancetta). Over a couple of ever-so- smooth Milano blend capuccinos I took the opportunity of reading the courtesy copy of the Daily Mail. Must be something to do with Carluccios' demographic I suppose. For those of you with a less than energetic disposition might I recommend reading the Mail first thing on at least 2 days a week? You wouldn't need to buy it, if your friendly local W.H. Smith doesn't mind you using their newspaper rack as a library. Anyway, I find that it gives the reader the mental and emotional equivalent of an hour's solid workout on the multi-gymn.
My first career was in the oily side of the motor trade. There's a joke in there somewhere about conning the public and then working for the public with cons. But I'm buggered if I can find it.
In brief then. Worked for 43 years and enjoyed much of it. Retired 4 months enjoyed all of it. No prizes for seeing which is best bet then.
No great surprise, given the precision of your work, to read that several of you chaps are writers for a living
(**) please don't hit me
I write an unpaid monthly column for a local paper. Can anyone go lower than that?
see my entry just above
I'm the manager of a second hand bookshop, a writer and a stand up comedian. I wrote those in order of the amount of money I get paid to do them.
Worked in care for a few years: hospice, severally autistic teens, adults with mental and physical disabilities. Made me come across as a saint at parties, but I prefer this new existence because no one dies or punches me and at no point do I get covered in sick, blood, or vomit. Happy days.
The worlds oldest and poorest trainee accountant. After 20 years trying to escape finance I thought the only thing to do was get some qualifications and make some money. Unfortunately studying eats into my dicking about writing jokes time.
Writer. Househusband. Curator of British Museum of Rejection Slips. Journalist for 30+years since age of 14. Packed it in (having O Level in Reading Writing on Wall) to try hand at fiction and comedy. Will physically assault next person who tells me JK Rowling was rejected, oh, loads of times before she got rich and famous. Dog walker. Red hot lover. Fantasist.
I'm a computer consultant specialising in cloud computing. How do clouds compute I hear you ask? Fair with occasional showers.
Thought Wayland must be a writer of some sort.
I travel around the country, standing up and saying words. I like to ask a few questions every now and again. An icy, languid, biting disdain for most people I meet professionally is actually a positive skill in my line of work. I am not a presenter for CBeebies.
My company makes power supply subsystems used in production equipment for factories that use thin-film deposition/etch technology to make solar panels, flat panel TFT-LCD screens, microelectronic chips etc.
Basically, our equipment converts regular AC into high frequency (13.56MHz) power that is fed onto an electrode (antenna) in a vacuum chamber, and the rapidly oscillating electric field then ionises the controlled amounts of gas in the chamber (a plasma is created) and these highly reactive ions/radicals do the chemistry you want on the surface of the substrate in the chamber (a sheet of glass, or a silicon wafer)
It's a Japanese company, and I'm the sales manager and one of the directors of the European subsidiary.
It's not my main job, but I also sometimes translate operating manuals for our equipment into English for the European market, so maybe I can be an associate member of the technical writing faction.
In airports, on planes, I just tell people I'm a sales guy.
Golgo - I can see how that would work.
Back at the tail end of the 80's I spent a very enjoyable year working as a stage hand in a provincial theatre. I could easily outdo Jeni B with my tales of hob-nobbing with the likes of the bloke who played Terry Duckworth, a woman from Wizadora and Mr La-de-dah 'Gunner' Graham from 'It ain't half hot, mum'. But I shall resist.
Any road, the chap who was stage manager at the time was a veteran of many TV studios and theatres and had been in the business for over 30 years. He had many interesting stories to tell and knew almost every actor, producer and director on the theatre circuit at the time.
But one job that he'd done as a fresh faced teenager is the one job that any lad of 19, such as I was, could only ever dream of and never hope to attain. Astronaut? Clint Eastwood's stunt double? Chief quality approval taster at Guinness?
One of his very first jobs had been at the Raymond Review Bar in Soho, applying ice cubes to the dancers' nipples as they went on stage.
I'm sorry, but why would you ever leave a job like that? It makes no sense. Therefore I believe the story to be a nonsense.
I now manage an office full of people.
I have been known to while away the days teaching chickens how to fly. I wasn't very good at it but practice makes, well, not a lot of difference, it seems.
Editor of a magazine about chemicals.
Has it ever been featured on HIGNFY?
Shitsu, I collect antique (or, even old) cook books. (I believe you all would call them "cookery" books.) Save some for me. I especially like the ones that exemplify the idea of "chic" of the time they were written.
dvo4fun: No, though it has been asked before. The title just isn't funny enough. The sister magazine of my previous mag, Plastics & Rubber Weekly, did feature once.
There were some great trade mags around when I was in PR. Such as:
The Commercial Rabbit
The list goes on.
Rikkor, old cookery books can be terrifying especially ones from the seventies. Endless pictures of white rice, sweetcorn, chicken mashed together with something grim, and dreadful things being done to prawns.
Sorting through old cookery books never fails to make me glad that it was all before I was born and that I grew up on sensible eighties food like angel delight and findus crispy pancakes.
Ooh! Butterscotch Angel Delight mmmmm.
Thanks for that shitsu, that's tomorrow's dinner sorted.
I remember in the seventies that with the advent of foreign travel for the masses, everyone started trying to make 'continental' dishes.
I recall my mum making ratatouille in bulk, and it being served alongside everything from pork chops to roast beef.
Neighbours of ours used to have 'Paella Parties' and even my xenophobic grandmother would eat a Blackforest Gateau.
My aunt and uncle lived in France for a while when my uncle was teaching there, and they brought back recipes for lots of 'fancy foreign muck', as the xenophobe put it.
But the seventies were really the era of bland food, decorated to look tasty.
It's no wonder I'm short, I was starved of decent food.
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