In the past, I have mentioned that storefront theatre does not pay the bills. My parents do that. However, storefront theatre also does not pay for public transportation or round-trip tickets to Portland, Oregon, where my lovely girlfriend lives. For this, one must acquire a day job.

Now, as you may recall, you failed at acquiring a day job in Step 8. That was disappointing. Extremely disappointing. I expect better from you, I really do. I mean, I’m putting all this work into this blog, and you can’t even get a lousy day job? What have you been doing all day? ARE YOU EVEN TRYING? GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME, SON! LET’S SEE SOME HUSTLE OUT THERE!

Fortunately for you, I have found the solution: dog walking.

You see, by not getting a job this summer, you inadvertently stumbled into the best time to get hired as a dog walker: when the air gets cold, the leaves die colorful deaths, and the wealthy begin to think, “Why have I left the heated floors of my glorious penthouse to battle the winter winds and collect the feces of my animal servant? I sleep on a pile of gold! There is no service which cannot be bought! DOG WALKER!”

Then these wealthy individuals contact petcare companies like my new place of employment, Green Paws, which I assume was named after some horrible disease that afflicts the four-legged if they are not properly cared for by an underemployed actor. The company charges the client a monthly fee and provides them with what they call a “petcare specialist” to walk their dogs. This “petcare specialist” is paid a hilariously inadequate forty percent of this fee for his or her services.

The only way this “petcare specialist” can really make any money is by stringing together a near-impossible number of walks every day. For instance, I have up to twelve back-to-back twenty-five minute daily walks that keep me on my feet from 10:00am-4:30pm. I run up and down high-rises, over and under bridges, and occasionally in and out of doughnut shops, because doughnuts are delicious. I end every day with sore legs and windburn, which are basically the modern-day equivalents of black lung. It’s a hard life for hard men.

That said, dogs are far easier to deal with than people, and they are always eager to see you (expect Ben, who poops himself and hides under the desk whenever I come into the apartment). You also have great hours and can pretty much make your own schedule, which is essential for an actor. Your bosses will probably be cool bearded dudes, and as long as you take good care of the pets and keep your appointments, you won’t hear from them too often. Because of all the walking, you’ll probably stay in shape (if the shape you want to stay in is “lanky”), and you’ll get your fair share of fresh air. So, in the grand scheme of things, it could be a great deal worse.

In conclusion: If you are an actor and not adverse to handling poop on a regular basis, walk dogs.

And if you have not seen me in the Dream Theatre Company‘s A Christmas Carol: An Evening of Dickensian Delights (the fancy new name for A Christmas Carol—Abridged), you still have one more weekend after this! We have also added Sunday night shows, so if you couldn’t get tickets before, try again. Buy them here.