Why a Hunting Cameraman's Job is Better Than Yours
January 10, 2012
How do I know my job is better than yours?
First, everyone tells me so. Second, if it's blue collar, I probably did some form of your job before I got fired and inspired. A brief look at my pre-camera monkey resume: paperboy, amateur landscaper, snow shoveler, gas fitter, appliance repairman, furniture deliverer, factory janitor, beer fridge stocker at Korean grocery store, pharmacy delivery man, flower delivery man, balloon delivery man, water heater installer, deckhand on a sailboat, cook, dishwasher, day laborer carrying heavy stuff, day laborer carrying light stuff, photo developer, sheet rocker, painter, dumpster diver, auto mechanic (major fail), maintenance man at a pizza crust factory, janitor, tard tackler, salesman of everything from citrus to radio ads, eye-in-the sky traffic reporter, guerilla marketer, telemarketer and many shady vocations I can't remember or choose not to divulge.
I started paying income taxes when I was 14. I noticed about that age that I needed cash to get out of the poorest neighborhood in Washington State -- Hillyard, Google it -- so I got a special child labor work permit from the city of Spokane. The next thing I learned was I couldn't do a boring job, and I spent the next 15 years doing whatever I could not to be crushed by boredom.
One thing I've proven to myself is that I'll take hunger, homelessness and uncertainty over the soul-swallowing demon of boredom. I threw it all away and risked it all over and over until the roulette ball of life landed here: The Number One Camera Monkey for Petersen's Hunting TV.
Why am I here and you're there? I'm no career counselor but I think there are three reasons: 1) I'm insane; 2) I have massive cajones that generate gallons of testosterone; and 3) I'm a mastermind. I never chickened out on my dream.