I was introduced to gainful employment at age 13 when my dad made me take a job as a paperboy. These days I write for the newspapers (which is a lot easier on the back and also pays slightly better).
In between, I worked a lot of jobs. I’ve eked out a living as a janitor, substitute teacher, foundry worker, taco maker, babysitter, hi-lo driver, telemarketer, soldier, dishwasher, personnel director, musician, commercial artist, mail sorter, wedding photographer, reporter, editor, burger flipper, and international jewel thief.
OK, I made that last one up.
Point is, I’ve had a diverse work life. Most of the jobs I’ve held over the years I’ve liked. Except for the telemarketer gig; that one is every bit as terrible as you imagine it would be.
I think I’ve had this many jobs for the same reason I’ve had so many wives: I have a tough time taking constructive criticism. Or non-constructive criticism. Or … look, just say only nice things about me and we’ll get along fine.
Some of my jobs required brains, some talent, some a unique skill set. Others required none of these things.
To some jobs I wore a uniform, some a suit, some a paper hat and plastic name tag.
But the easiest job I ever had required no clothing at all. In fact, no clothing was the requirement.
Back when I was still in school I worked as a model for a nude drawing class. Now, if a mental picture is forming and you’re starting to feel mildly nauseous, remember, this was loooong ago. Beer and Mexican food had yet to transform my body into the nightmarish, manatee-esque horror it is today.
Admittedly, even in my prime nobody mistook me for Will Smith in “Independence Day,” but the woman who taught the class assured me she was looking for “real” people with real bodies to model for her students.
I was young, broke and fancied myself to be something of a free-spirited Bohemian. I needed the twenty bucks and wasn’t particularly terrified at the notion of parading my birthday suit into a room full of strangers. All in the name of art, of course.
The reality turned out to be somewhat different. The first thing I learned is they heat the studio (located in the basement of the old Grand Rapids Art Museum) to a temperature comfortable to people wearing clothing. Those of us with none were soon puckered and shivering.
Also, sitting or standing stock still for 25 minutes at a stretch is tougher than you think, particularly when you’re slowly frosting into a 19-year-old nudie-sickle.
The real downer, though, comes when you see the manner in which the students have “interpreted” your beloved physique. Let’s just say not all those interpretations were flattering and few of the students will ever be mistaken for Michelangelo.
To be fair, I wasn’t exactly presenting them with “David” material. (Feel free to Google it if you’re missing some of the artsy-fartsy references here.)
I only modeled nude that one time, but it’s good to know I have something to fall back on should the writing thing not pan out.
Catch Mike Taylor’s Reality Check radio program every weekday at 5:30 p.m. on WGLM, m106.3 on your FM dial.
mtaylor@staffordgroup.com
(616) 548-8273
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