Job #2: Darkroom

My grandpa started a printing business back in the late 60s, and my dad worked there, eventually taking over ownership, for about twenty five years. When I started high school I also started working at the print shop. I had matured a lot since my long stint as a newspaper delivery specialist and an hour a day now seemed like a reasonable workday to me. I worked with a huge room sized camera with a darkroom at one end, taking photos of photos to make them smaller so they'd fit in newsletters. While my contemporaries toyed with the idea of working in the fast food industry I was proud to have achieved a position that allowed me to stretch my intellectual muscle to calculate what percent 1.5 inches was of 5.65 inches. 


I worked pretty much when I wanted for as long as I wanted, had vacations and holidays (unpaid! a crime!), and finally had money for candy and toys again.