I don’t have the exact date, but I am pretty sure the summer of 1976 was the last time that I had two weeks off. Ever since then, I have never gone anywhere close to two weeks without earning a paycheck.
I like working. Paperboy. Busboy. Waiter. Hotel porter. Potato peeler. Car wash cleaner (oxymoron?). School newspaper editor. Account executive at a promotions agency. Marketing manager for University of Guelph athletics. Bartender at a Muskoka resort. Assistant manager at the same Muskoka resort (resort now gone…was called Paignton House). Arboretum “slave”. Grill cook at McDonald’s. Sports publicist at CNE. Food & beverage controller at a Queen’s Quay restaurant (also now gone, Spinnakers). Maintenance man at Ontario Sailing Centre. Maintenance man at a fishing (Wenona) lodge.
But since that day some 35 years ago, I have never gone two weeks without punching in. That is until three Fridays ago, when I climbed aboard a Boeing 763, bound for Rome and the first two-week vacation in the income tax-return-era of my life. Continue reading “Viva Italia”