“Got a new job, yet?” Harrison Winkle asked as soon as Big John Hudson entered the front door of Sarah’s Diner.

Harry figured he’d better get right to the topic at hand. For the past few weeks, Big John had been on a job search and that was all he wanted to talk about.

John was looking for the right career path that would support him and his faithful dog, Culligan, for many years to come. He had many good qualities that any employer would want: hard-working, punctual and never complaining within earshot of his boss.

John’s goal was to find a job that he could stick with, and would stick with him. His biggest fear was that his current occupation — discreet home delivery of adult diapers to the aging Baby Boomer population — might go the way of gas street lamps, telephone operators and deep state government workers.

“I’ve been looking,” lamented John, “But, it seems like every job I apply for is already destined for an early end.”

“Every job?” Jimmy scoffed. “What about that garbage collector gig I told you about? Did you check that one out? People are always throwing things away.”

“Garbage collectors have been replaced by sanitation engineers,” John whined. “According to one of those science magazines, by the time 2030 gets here, everything will be recycled. We won’t have landfills anymore.”

“Recycling is no big deal,” Tommy Jones opined.

At 82, Tommy had seen the world change from wallowing in the Great Depression to wallowing in the Great Recession. When Tommy was born many rural families were still using out-houses, half the country did not have electricity in their homes, and if you were fortunate enough to have a telephone, it was a box on the wall operated by a crank handle and all of your neighbors could listen in on your conversation.

“When I was a kid, the milkman pulled up every morning in a truck filled with blocks of ice and glass bottles, dropped off a couple of bottles filled with fresh milk, picked up the empty bottles from the day before, and took them back to the dairy where they were washed and refilled with more fresh milk. That was recycling”

“Exactly,” complained John. “Now, there are no more milkmen, no more bottle washers, and no more guys lugging around 100-pound chunks of ice. How did recycling work out for those guys? Where’s the job security?”

“Look at the jobs the internet has eliminated.” Mort joined in because he was starting to see John’s point. “Insurance agents, door-to-door salesmen, travel agents, job recruiters…”

“Porn distributors,” added Firewalker. “I miss those days.”

“…movie stars,” continued Mort, as he tried to ignore anything and everything Firewalker had to say. “These days, anyone with a phone can make a video and post it online.”

“How about starting up a blog?” Harry asked. “If you can’t beat the system, go online and complain about it.”

“How long could a job like that last?” John asked, as he considered his options.

“How long can you keep complaining?”

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.