The Daily WORD is JOBLER

Another word with a lifetime of under a year. Its gravestone reads 1662-1662. It failed to thrive because of its definition: one who does small jobs. Yesteryear, as today, no one admits to performing a “small” job. When I clean the kitchen floor, I am not a jobler; I am a martyr. When I weed the herb garden, I am not a jobler; I am a grumbler. When I vacuum, I am not a jobler; I am a bitch.

The jobler concept comes into play when dealing with people who abuse writers (PWAWs). PWAWs describe their joblets as laughably small, requiring the skill level of a baboon, thus commanding the salary of zero, but YOU WILL SEE YOUR NAME IN PRINT.

(excuse me while I inhale glue to recover from all the excitement)

As a writer, I am happy to be a jobler, as long as my name in print is on a check that does not bounce. I enjoy small writing jobs. Yes, I am a jolly jobler, but if any more PWAWs ask me to give away my writing so I can SEE MY NAME IN PRINT, be warned. You will SEE YOUR NAME IN PRINT along with insults in five languages all the way from my little blog to the farthest reaches of the World Wide Web.

Pro bono work does not apply to my rant. I am happy to do small writing jobs for no charge for causes I care about. In these cases, I do not want to see my name in print. It is not a modesty issue; it is pride. By the time my pro bono work is edited by earnest charity folks who got an A in English Composition, it sometimes reads like it was written by a baboon.  And, that is okay. If they are happy, I am happy – as long as I don’t see my name in print.



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