On the Job
The Work You Do, the Person You Are
The pleasure of being necessary to my parents was profound. I was not like the children in folktales: burdensome mouths to feed.
Brush Clearing with Teen-Age Boys in Arkansas
I was management—tasked and poorly paid to get down among ’em and impart the skills of swing-blade, of scythe, of axe and hatchet.
The Countess’s Private Secretary
Although she told me often how much she liked and admired me, I was unmistakably a servant.
The Hardworking Immigrant Who Made Good
After a few interviews in which I saw my interlocutor flick his eyes over my résumé and register that I had no relevant experience, I decided to start lying.
