My first real paycheck-job was in the summer of eighth grade: assembling Schwinn bicycles, starting out with one-speed banana-seaters and working my way up to ten-speed racers, for a small but thriving neighborhood bike shop that kept its boxed stock in the basement of the massage parlor around the corner.

Other work has also been memorable for various reasons, both good and bad:

• rising through the ranks to become the night-shift manager at the first Burger King in Minnesota to turn a million dollars annually, when I was fresh out of high school;
• washing enormous loads of recycled clothing that were hoisted around in SUV-sized canvas sacks hanging from hooks at the end of stout cables attached to tracks on the ceiling of an industrial laundry before being shredded into chair-padding;
• chroming refurbished car bumpers in electroplating vats surrounded by wispy clouds of sweet-smelling toxic vapor;
• running a small recording studio in the basement of my house just before the advent of affordable digital, producing a goofy post-punk power-pop indie vinyl single there that somehow made its way to number one at a college radio station in Spain;
• driving a delivery van for a low-rent, rusted-out version of FedEx, being promoted to dispatcher, then being awarded a coveted position driving a UPS-like step-van to deliver boxes of Avon products to Avon ladies all over southern Minnesota;
• serving subpoenas, orders, writs, summons, and other legal papers, then filing proofs of service at various local, state and federal offices, necessitating the execution of countless affidavits, which wreaked havoc on my signature—and unless I receive some kind of honorary degree, that's the closest I'm likely to ever come to becoming a doctor;
• being the editor of an international quarterly journal about building with straw and mud and sticks;
• webstering.

There has been other, less notable work mixed in as well. Unpaid, volunteer efforts such as forays into public guerrilla-art and freebie cause-related webwork and unpaid writing have not been noted.

Now I'm looking for something with a more stable income—maybe in or around Ithaca NY, or in the Pacific Northwest somewhere. Or in another place. If you have a job, you can email it to <bigfatpaycheck@potkettleblack.com>. Thanks.