This Is A Job?

Right now I'm working down on the Miracle Mile, Wilshire Boulevard, in the Variety Building. This is one of those places where they don't really have enough parking spaces for everyone in the building, so what they do is park two deep. You get there early enough in the morning and you pull into an extra-long parking space, leaving room for someone to pull in behind you.
   This prompts the question: 'if someone parks behind me, how the hell do I get out?' Rather than waiting for someone to come down and move their car, the building employs several people whose job it is to take keys from the second-rank parkers and move those cars when the first-rank parkers want to get out. They come on at 9 AM and leave at 6 PM.
   It was only today that I thought about how terrible that job must be. The guy on 'B' level, where I usually park, seems cheerful enough, but his job - for 9 hours a day - is to sit in a dank, exhaust-befumed parking garage and move cars around. That can't be pleasant, and it can't be fun. Sure, he's not stuck in a cube like the people in the 20+ stories above, and he doesn't bring his work home with him, but still.
   There's always a way to earn a buck, and some ways are better than others, but it seems to me that parking-garage car-mover has to be on the lower end of the list. Construction work is harder, certainly, as would being a garbageman or a window cleaner, but at least those guys get outside, and their work provides them a sense of accomplishment. Hell, even a fast-food job seems like it would be more rewarding.
   Maybe I'll get my 'B'-level guy something. A snack might work. Or a thank-you card.


COMMUTE - there - 35 minutes      back - 36 minutes, got out early.
CONTRACT COUNTDOWN: 50 days