So Clown College was Out of the Question?

I walked across the stage, shook the dean’s hand, and picked up my degree. After that it was all over except for the pictures. Time to start up with real life, no more playing around. Am now a serious adult with serious career plans

The next day at 9:30 in the morning I made it to my first day of work.

“Alright, you’ll be running the Human Foosball Table. It’s pretty self explanatory. Now help me set up the rest of the carnival.”

Yes that’s right, four years, 137 credit hours, 24 thousand dollars worth of student loans, and one computer science degree later I’ve officially entered the American workforce as a carnie.

Now, it’s not as glamorous as it initially sounds. It’s not all high salaries and free cotton candy. No, there’s much to-do with the rolling and unrolling of gigantic inflatable rides, yelling strange, made-up catch phrases at small children (most noticeably “low to the ground is your friend,” and “No vicious throwing!”), as well as becoming incredibly sunburnt.

And come to think of it, I still haven’t gotten any cotton candy, free or otherwise.

(A small aside here. I’ve often complained about my facial features and how they lend me a very shifty and untrustworthy look. Long ago I realized this was because of my very deep-set eyes. Few people believed me, but now I have irrevocable proof: That incredible sunburn from above left me looking like I wore goggles all day out in the sun. Because, you see, my jutting brow provides such shade for my eyes that I have two perfect white ovals around my eyes in the center of my very bright red face. It’s a beautiful time to be Jason.)

I have, however, learned many important lessons in the past two weeks.

1. You should always ask how many people will be staffing any carnival you’ll be working. If the answer is “Just the two of us,” and the person answering is even smaller than yourself, run away as fast as possible. Especially if you weigh 140 pounds and there is an 800 pound inflatable slide waiting in a nearby truck.

2. Exactly how one should hammer a huge metal stake into the ground. (Answer: Very carefully, so as not to take a wild swing with the sledge hammer, miss said stake, thump into the ground, lose your balance, and fall head over heels onto the ground. While a group of 15 teenagers watch you. Otherwise it’s just tacky.)

3. If asked to work carnival games, be very specific in your answer. Always include the proviso “I prefer not to work any games in which children with incredibly horrible aim and sadistic natures are given air rifles and asked to shoot over stacks of cans that I will have to stand two feet away from and then restack continuously for a 4 hour stretch.” Trust me, this will save you much grief, not to mention physical pain and will allow you to avoid having to use the phrase “Oh no, my eye is fine, my vision is slowly returning,” twice in the course of any given day.

And that, my friends, is just the tip of the iceberg. To think I once longed for the freedom that adult life would bring. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go get ready for my next exciting adventure in the real world. Which reminds me of the last tip of the day: if ever asked the question “Would you mind wearing an animal costume?” be very clear in your enunciation of the words “Oh Hell no.”