Bottom 3 Jobs, Pt. 2 H.O.P.E.

Heros Of the Parking Elite: I was a cone waver. For Knott's Berry Farm. When I had made the move from LA to the OC, again, I was hard up for a job.  I had to fake a piss test and the whole 9. To become one of the few, the elite, the guardian of the whole cosmic alinement: Parking control. That's what these nerds* would have you think, at least.  These are the boy scouts that had to get a life somehow.  And feel like this parking control thing... well, let's just say they like the "control" part.  One parking guy said he busted some kids with weed and ruined their day.  I laughed along. I had to act like I identified with these half-ass pigs in training.  Some were cool, yes, but others really seemed like they expected some great compensation for their acting like their job was a battle at the front line.  That or an executive smooch-session....  

And as far as the nature of the work, well...I waved people into spots with a flashlight that had a neon cone attatchment. I had a walkie talkie which I occasionally made jokes on. Was usually just a mindless middleman, my lightsaber moving robotically in a 90 degree angle. 

The bad part wasn't the heros I worked with or the mindlessness of the work, it was the heckler jock bastards. They'd always have some line, "Do you get paid to do that?" and before I could give em some kind of snappy one liner they were gone. What I shoulda said is their license plate number out loud. That would've given them the willies in some way, shape or form.

I could put up with this. Had no choice. The free admission to the park helped a bit. Waking up, smoking a bowl on a day off, and going on the bestest rides over and over again. 

I remember walking home from getting this job and finding a box of kittens, which Mr. William Morlan and I found homes for. But that is another story for another day friends, another story for another day...

*= I have a lot of good nerd friends.  Nerds can be good people. But these nerds sucked.