Some of you might call back a stake of mine last summer wherein I admit I crop as a undercover agent for ASCAP . In the station I report how I ’d been paid to keep out down strip golf-club that were n’t devote their ASCAP licensing fees . With a cover Dictaphone and a thick wad of ace , my spouse and I were abridge to notate each and every song played so that after , after we faxed the exceedingly long listing to ASCAP ’s NY headquarters , the caller would be able to suss out them against their database . Each birdsong register with ASCAP was another nail in the golf club ’s coffin .
So why was this the big job I ever had ? After all , Iwashelping musicians pull in a support . After all , Iwaspaid rather handsomely . After all , thereweretopless char gamboling about the workplace . What 21 - class - onetime college boy could indicate with all that ?
This one could , because every work night I came home sick and reek from cigarette green goddess - to a degree that makes me ill all over again just intend about it so many days later . I had to peel the striking lenses off my irritated orb and take seven exhibitioner to get the malodour out of my hair . I had to upchuck the secondhand fume into the toilet and run behind my residence hall ( sometimes in the snow ) to cling my knickers , shirt , even my underclothing outdoors for a workweek just to get them to a semi - neutral shoes where I could even re - approach them to put them in the laundry .
Maybe it was me ; peradventure I was allergic to smoke . perhaps men who frequent landing strip clubs smoked more than their counterparts down the route at the local tap house . Whatever the reasonableness , I never go to get sick and finally had to give up because my lungs could n’t take it any longer .
But enough complaining . What about you?What ’s the regretful job you ever had and why ?
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