Fall from Grace

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I’ve always been clumsy. My father thought it was funny to call me “Grace” because I had none. He also often referred to me as “a bull in a china shop.” My dad wasn’t nearly as funny as he thought he was.

Once in my early 20s I discussed by clumsiness with a friend. She asked if I’d ever considered doing something to counter my clumsiness. I was perplexed. I thought clumsy was my destiny. I wondered what could I possibly do about it. She suggested I take up some sort of martial art. The thought made me shudder.

Not only am I clumsy, but I suffer from left-right confusion. In the BuzzFeed article “Why Do Some People Struggle To Tell Left From Right?” Professor John Clarke from Drexel University has the following to say about left-right confusion:

Twenty percent of the population has right and left confusion, meaning that they can’t immediately tell their right from their left without having to think about it first.

In my early days of driving as a 30-something, trying to distinguish left from right while also trying to juggle all the new skills I had to manage was often problematic. Even in daily, non-driving life, if I have to distinguish between left and right, I have to think about the fact that I am right-handed and then remember in what hand I hold a pen or pencil if I am going to write. That’s how I distinguish right from left.

I remember doing aerobics in junior high PE class and marching with the pep squad in high school. When the person leading the exercise gave verbal instruction to “stretch to the left” or “step to the right” I invariably used the wrong arm or foot. I was always the person turning in clockwise circles when everyone else was turning counter-clockwise. If the instructor stood facing the class, and I was supposed to raise the hand or take a step opposite of what she was doing, forget it. I can only mirror-image someone. My brain is simply too slow to process “I’m facing her so her left is my right, so if she stretches out the arm on my left, I need to stretch out my right arm.” Nope. My brain looks at the instructor and can only manage to mirror her motion at least for the first several times (or maybe the first several hundred times) we practice the movements. The comedy of errors I know will ensue if I try to learn a new physical sequence (be it dance, yoga, or taekwondo) has kept me out of the studio and the dojo.

(I did try a Zumba class about six years ago. I had all the same problems, so I know I didn’t outgrow any of this.)

My physical dexterity improved a bit after nearly 3,000 AmeriCorps hours working construction, but not before I fell in the mud in front of God and everybody while helping to move a heavy board. The coolest gal on the crew laughed right out loud at me, but I refused to quit, so I returned to work the next day despite my humiliation.

I blame my feet for my falls. I drag them when I walk instead of picking each one up in a distinct step. My walking style was particularly dangerous in Midwestern winters when ice and snow covered the ground. When I had to move across icy sidewalks, I’d actually give myself little pick up your feet pep talks in my head. I suspect most people instinctively pick up their feet when they walk, but I have to remind myself every (literal) step of the way.

The other problem with my feet is that instead of pointing straight ahead, they turn in towards each other. Someone noticed my younger sibling’s “crooked foot” (as our parents call it), which led to the dreaded nighttime brace, a metal bar stretching from one shoed foot to the other and holding them in proper position during sleep. My sibling understandably hated the brace, but at least now my sibling’s feet point where they’re supposed to. No one notice my feet were turned in, so they received no correction. I think sometimes I fall because my feet get tangled in one another.

Don’t get me wrong–I don’t fall every day or every week or every month, but I don’t think most adults ever fall. Even my infrequent falls are unusual and too often. Especially now that I’m getting older, any fall is scary and dangerous.

Last August, I’d gone down the mountain and into civilization to do laundry, buy groceries, and run other errands. A combination of ridiculous heat and caffeine coursing through my veins had limited my sleep to about four hours. I was tired, but I’d gotten the laundry done.

I’d washed and dried The Man’s clothes and my own, as well as all of my bedding. Instead of making three trips to haul everything to the van (as I should have), I decided to use one of the laundromat’s wheeled carts. I put the three packed laundry bags in the cart, then piled my sheets, comforter, and comforter cover on top. I was moving a lot of laundry.

All went well until I encountered a dip in the pavement of the parking lot. Whether it was put there for drainage or speed control, I don’t know, but I had to cross this dip to get to my van.

I don’t think my sleepy brain registered the dip when I approached it. Suddenly I realized the cart wasn’t moving, but I don’t think I realized why. I started pushing, pulling, tugging on the cart before I adequately accessed the situation.

The cart started going down. Of course, I didn’t want my nice clean things to land on the dirty pavement. I tried to keep the cart upright, but instead of keeping it up, the falling cart pulled me down.

My torso hit the soft laundry, but my knees hit the pavement and my lower thighs hit the rigid metal of the cart. Ouch!

Finding myself lying on the ground is always surprising and disconcerting. I’m never quite sure how I got there.

It’s scary. Am I hurt? Can I walk? Is there blood?

It’s embarrassing. Did anybody see me? Do people think I’m drunk? Do people think I’m stupid?

This time I was sort of beached on the mound of laundry, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to lift myself up. I think I kicked and floundered a bit before I was able to pick myself up from the ground.

Mixed in with the hope that no one has seen me fall is always the indignation that no one has come to my aid. I hope no one has seen me, and I hope no one who has seen me will laugh and point, but I would like someone to check on my well-being. However, seeing a grown woman fall is awkward for bystanders too, and most people would like to pretend it never happened.

(Once while walking in a city when I was about 30, I stubbed my toe on a bolt left in the sidewalk when a streetlight was removed. I fell down and really jacked up my knee. A woman standing on the corner where I fell crossed in the street against the light to get away from me. Perhaps she feared my clumsiness was contagious.)

This time in the laundromat parking lot a good Samaritan did come to my aid. After I’d picked myself up, while I was wrestling the cart back to an upright position, a sweet older lady came up to me and asked if I was ok.

I saw you fall, she said.

I assured us both that I was ok, although I wasn’t 100% sure of that yet. I thanked the woman, dusted off a bit of grime from my comforter, and pushed the cart to my van. Thankfully there were no more dips in  my path.

After I loaded the laundry into the van, I lifted my skirt and checked my throbbing legs. I wasn’t bleeding. A few spots were red, but no skin was broken. My knees were sensitive for weeks, and it hurt to kneel. I ended up with a pale purple bruise above and to the left of my right knee. It continued to grow for days, and at its largest was bigger than my fist.

Overall, I got off easy. I know I need to be more careful and pay better attention to how I’m moving through the world. At my age and income bracket, a broken bone or even a sprained ankle would be a huge setback.

 

Love for a Son

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On Valentine’s Day, it’s easy to focus on romantic love and forget about all the other kinds of love that live in the human heart: love for siblings, love for children, love for friends, love for animals, love for parents, love for caregivers, love for students, love for teachers. On this Valentine’s Day, I want to remind you of these other loves and share a story about one woman’s love for her son.

The farmers market was almost over. Some of the less patient vendors were already packing. I’m an until the bitter end kind of gal, so I hadn’t put away a single item I wanted to sell.

Two women walked up to my table. They seemed to be Native Americans, probably from the local tribe if I had to guess. They appeared to be in their late 50s and were maybe sisters or maybe cousins or maybe close friends. In any case, there was an easy companionship between them.

We were about a month from Valentine’s Day, so I showed them, as I’d shown everyone who’d approached my table that day, the stone hearts cut from labradorite, rose quartz, agate, and carnelian that I had for sale. I also pointed out my new septarian concretions and the Arkansas quartz points I’d picked up earlier in the week. The women discussed the stones, slipping seamlessly from English to their native language, then back again.

Heart Stones

The woman to my left had long, dark, curly hair, and she wore glasses. She picked up a septarian nodule and it slipped from her hand and fell onto the concrete sidewalk. She couldn’t apologize enough.

Septarian Nodules

Don’t worry about it, I told her. That rock is a million years old.* It’s been through a lot. 

Her companion giggled at my joke, but I could tell the woman who’d dropped the stone was mortified. Of course, I prefer my merchandise not to hit concrete, but there was no sense being mad at someone who’d had an accident. I know the woman had no intention of being disrespectful towards me or my stones.

The woman with curly hair returned the septarian nodule to the bowl with the others of its kind and began sorting through the heart stones. Her companion had wandered to the next table before the woman with the curly hair found the perfect heart stone, a red agate.

My son died six years ago, she told me. I stopped what I was doing and looked into her eyes.

Oh, I’m sorry, I murmured. I never know what to say to people when they confess their heartbreak.

He loved loved loved rocks, she said with a big smile. I’m going to leave this on his grave, she explained, showing me the heart stone in the palm of her hand.

I miss him, she said quietly. I love him so much.

I’m sure he loved you too, I told her. Loves, I corrected myself. I’m sure he still loves you.

He does, she said with absolute confidence. He tells me he loves me. He tells me he’s ok. He tells me he’s happy. 

The woman paid for the heart stone and caught up with her friend who had moved on down the row of vendors.

I enjoy selling stones that make people happy. I like selling Arkansas quartz points to kids who look at the clusters as if they were diamonds. I like selling septarian concretions to people who enjoy the way they feel in the hand. I like selling ammonite pairs to folks who give them as meaningful gifts and kyanite pieces to jewelers who use them to create pieces of wearable art. Most of all, I like selling stones to people who share their pain and joys with me and let me know they’ll use the stones to maintain a heart connection with the people they love.

*According to BestCrystals.com, septarian nodules were actually


formed between 50 to 70 million years ago…

so that stone was more than a single million years old.

I took the photos in this post.

Earning Money by Participating in Drug Studies (Part 2)

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Last week I gave you the first half of everything I know about participating in drug studies for money. Today I’ll tell you the rest.

Blue and Silver StetoscopeIf you’re interested in being a healthy volunteer for a clinical trial, you first have to find a study facility that is recruiting. If you’re willing to travel, you have a better chance of finding a trial to participate in. The following are a few of the clinical trial recruiters I found during my research:

The Center for Information & Study on Clinical Research Participation

is a free service designed to help people find clinical trials that are relevant to their needs. CISCRP staff will work with you to understand your options and our staff will help you find local clinical trials in your community, or as far as you would be comfortable traveling.

ClincalTrails.gov

is a database of privately and publicly funded clinical studies conducted around the world.

PRA Health Sciences has locations in Lenexa, KS (metro Kansas City area) and Salt Lake City, UT.

Johnson County Clin-Trials is located in Lenexa, KS (metro Kansas City area).

Vince & Associates is located in Overland Park, KS (metro Kansas City area).

IQVIA is located in the metro Kansas City area and can be reached via telephone (913-894-5533 or  800-292-5533 [Monday-Friday, 8:30 A.M. to 4:30 P.M. CST]) or email (vps.volunteer@IQVIA.com).

The Center for Pharmaceutical Research is located in Kansas City, MO.

PPD has clinical research units in Austin, TX and Las Vegas, NV.

Celerion has locations in Lincoln, NE; Tempe, AZ (metro Phoenix area); and Belfast, Northern Ireland UK .

The University of Arizona Health Sciences recruits healthy volunteers in the Tucson and Phoenix areas.

The Mayo Clinic also recruits healthy volunteers for clinical trials. Most trials seem to be held in Rochester, MN, but I also saw listings for the metro Phoenix, AZ area, Jacksonville, FL, and La Crosse, WI.

Pfizer is seeking healthy volunteers for clinical trails across the United States.

Parexel conducts clinical studies in Baltimore, MD; Los Angels, CA; London, England, and Berlin, Germany.

If I didn’t include a study facility in the area where you are or where you’re planning to be, try putting “clinical trials healthy volunteers” and the big city closest to your desired location in a search engine.

After you find a study facility in the area where you are or an area to which you’re willing to travel, read the listings of upcoming studies carefully to see which ones you qualify for. Don’t waste your time applying for a study if you don’t meet all the qualifications. The requirements are pretty much set in stone, so if (for example) you’re a 26 year-old female who smokes, you’re not going to get into a study for male nonsmokers who are 35-65.

Once you find a study for which you qualify, take a look at how long it lasts. If you can’t sit in one place for more than a week, you might not want to sign up for a three week study. If you have to leave the area on December 19 to get to your mom’s house by Christmas Eve, don’t get into a study that lasts until December 22.

Another thing to check out is how many follow-up visits the trial requires. If you’ll be ready to leave the area soon after the study is over, don’t pick a trial that requires several follow-up visits. The sponsors of most of the studies I participated in withheld the final payment until the completion of the final follow-up visit to ensure volunteers Gray Rotary Telephone on Brown Surfaceactually showed up for the last examination

If you’ve determined you’re a good fit for the study criteria given, you can handle the length of the study, the dates work for you, and you’re ok with the number of follow-up visits required, the next step is to contact a recruiter via telephone or by submitting information online and having a recruiter call you. If you are calling the recruiter, be sure to have the study number handy. If you don’t give the study number and just try to describe the study, you and the recruiter may end up talking about different things.

If there are still openings in the study you are interested in, the recruiter will conduct a phone screening with you. The recruiter will ask you questions about your general health; your medical history; your current and past drug use, including illegal drugs and prescription and over-the-counter medications, as well as vitamins and supplements; alcohol use; dietary restrictions, height; weight; and birth control methods, among other things I’ve probably forgotten since the last time I went through a phone screening. If you still qualify to participate after you answer all these (highly personal) questions, the recruiter will set up an appointment for an in-person screening.

The night before your screening visit, you definitely want to drink plenty of water so your blood will flow easily when it’s time for your blood draw. Avoiding fatty and fried foods for several days before your screening will also help with the blood draws. The recruiter should tell you how many days prior to the visit you should avoid alcohol; caffeine; over-the counter medications, vitamins, and supplements; exercise; and specific foods (such as poppy seeds or grapefruit). The recruiter should also tell you if you need to fast before your screening and if you do, what time you should start your fast. Follow these instructions to the letter or you may find yourself disqualified from the study.

Arrive at the screening center before the specified time so you’re not rushing and frazzled. After you sign in, you will be given a lot of paperwork to fill out; some of the questions will be the same as what  the recruiter asked during the phone screening. You will also be given a detailed consent form to read and sign. You should be given the opportunity to ask questions about the clinical trial, and you should have all your questions answered to your satisfaction.

Person Massaging Man While Lying on BedAfter you turn in your paperwork, an onsite recruiter will read over it. If you still qualify for the trial, someone will measure your height and weight and determine your BMI (Body Mass Index). Your vital signs (temperature, blood pressure, respiration rate) will be measured and noted. At some point you will provide a urine sample and have blood drawn. A doctor will examine you to make sure you are healthy.

The waiting game begins when the screening appointment ends. Depending on when you screen, you may have to wait a week or two to find out if you have made it into the study. You may be called back in for a follow-up screening if any of your test results are on the edge of normal, so don’t go too far away from the screening center while you wait for your results.

While you’re going through your screening, it pays to be friendly and polite. The study sponsor screens more people than they need for the trail so they’re sure to have enough participants. If everyone qualifies physically, people will be cut from the study based on other criteria. If all physical aspects are equal, folks who are uncooperative or rude to the staff are more likely to be cut from the study.

If you do make it into the study, you will be called and told when to report to the study facility to check in. At your screening, you will have been given a list of what you are allowed to bring and what items are prohibited. Don’t even bother bringing prohibited items. Your bags will be checked, and any prohibited items will be confiscated. (You’ll get them back when you leave.) Prohibited items in the studies I participated in included food, gum, candy, over-the-counter medications, hygiene products with certain ingredients, and weapons of any kind.

Be sure to get to study facility on time for your check in. Being one minute late can get you cut from the trial. Black and White Blood Pressure Kit

Once you arrive for check in, you’re going to have to fill out a bunch of the same paperwork all over again. Just be patient and fill in the blanks. You’ll be weighed and your vital signs measured. You’ll provide urine and blood samples all over again. A doctor will examine you to make sure all is still well. You’ll go through the screening again because the study sponsor wants to confirm that you aren’t sick and haven’t been smoking or drinking alcohol or ingesting other chemicals you were told not to touch.

If you successfully make it over all these hurdles, you’ll be told you’re in the study, but don’t relax just yet. Each group of participants usually includes a couple of alternates in the event someone turns out to be sick in the morning or chickens out before they take the study medication. You’re not really in until you take the study medication, and even then, if you experience a serious adverse event (“side effect” in common terms) you might be dropped from the study for your own well-being. In my experience, even if participants are dropped from a trail early, they are paid for each night they spent in the study facility.

To be a successful drug study participant, be where you are supposed to be when you are supposed to be there. If you have a blood draw at 9:00, don’t make the study nurse have to drag you away from the activity room for it. If your vitals are to be checked at 23:00 (11pm for folks not accustomed to military time), be at your bedside and ready to go ten minutes prior. You should be given a chronology telling you exactly when every activity of the study will occur. Keep your chronology handy and live by it.

There’s a lot of down time in a drug study, so be prepared to entertain yourself. In the facilities I’ve stayed in, each bed had its own television, so volunteers could spend all day and most of the night (until mandatory lights-out) watching cable TV. Most facilities do have some public access computers, but the speed of the internet connection might be questionable. I always brought my own laptop, plenty of books, supplies for writing and sending letters and materials for making jewelry. Cellphones make it easy to catch up on all the calls you’ve been needing to make.

So that’s it, everything I remember about getting into a drug study. Do you have questions about something I didn’t cover? Just ask in the comments section below and I’ll do my best to answer.

Some of the information in this post comes from my memory and is correct as far as I recollect. Other information comes from my research on the internet and is correct as far as I can determine. This information is offered as a starting point for your own research, not as the definitive answer to all your questions. Blaize Sun is not responsible for you. Only you are responsible for you.

Images courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/blue-and-silver-stetoscope-40568/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/antique-close-up-cord-dial-209695/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-massaging-man-while-lying-on-bed-1321728/, and https://www.pexels.com/photo/black-and-white-blood-pressure-kit-220723/.

Baby Bovine

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I was alone in my van, driving up from Babylon after two nights, a full day, and a morning in the heat. I was tired because the heat had kept me from getting good rest.  It was early afternoon, full daylight, and although my van is a lumbering beast, I was making good time up the mountain.

Most of the road was well-lit by the sun, but where tree branches hung over the asphalt, shadows darkened the edge of the road. With my sunglasses on, it was sometimes difficult to see what was lurking in those shadows.

Crews were out felling hazard trees. The tree cutting had been going on for almost two months, and still there were dead and dying trees for the crews to take down. I slowed to a crawl when I saw workers on the side of the road and obeyed the signs demanding “slow” or “stop.”

I’m generally a cautious driver, and I tend to be even more careful on mountain roads. However, I almost had big trouble that afternoon.

I was taking a curve, and the road immediately ahead of me was deep in shadows. I was maybe going a little faster than I should have been. Maybe I had looked off to my left, or maybe I was daydreaming a little. I don’t remember what I was doing before I realized something was lurking in the shadows, but I do remember the panic and fear I felt when I realized something was out there.

Brown Cow in Green Leaf Grass during DaytimeIt was a calf, and it bolted. Instinct caused me to swerve into the other lane to miss hitting it. At first I didn’t think I had swerved fa r enough, and I worried I might hit the calf with the back of my van. Then I saw the calf running in the direction I was going and knew it was ok. I stayed in the wrong lane long enough to bypass the calf, then swung the van back into my lane.

Once I was away from the calf, I thought about the way I had swerved the van into the other lane without even looking to see if another vehicle was there. Luckily there wasn’t a vehicle in that lane, but what if there had been? What if someone had been coming from the opposite direction and had plowed into me because they were traveling too fast to stop?

I silenced my worried thoughts. It wouldn’t do any good to work myself into a panic over something that was finished. Just be more careful, I reminded myself.

What really mystified me was why that calf was alone. The bovines in that area usually hung out in groups of half a dozen or more. I occasionally saw a grown cow alone, but never a baby. I think I would have seen a grown cow more easily in the shadows. I certainly would have been going slower had I seen a cluster of cows on the road or by its side. In any case, the baby’s mamma was not there doing her job, and she and I both nearly paid the price.

I listened to my own advice and was more careful the rest of the way back to my campground. I especially slowed down and took a good look any time my side of the road was cloaked in shadow.

Photo courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/brown-cow-in-green-leaf-grass-during-daytime-51950/.

Woman at the Back Door

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My workday at the Mercantile had been long. I’d already dealt with a lost family who only wanted to visit famous trees and an elderly couple who despite having made a reservation online claimed they had no idea the campground lacked running water. It was now nearly 5:45, and although the Mercantile was scheduled to close at five o’clock, I wasn’t quite finished with my nightly duties.

My last task of the workday was to zip shut all the windows on the yurt housing the Mercantile. The windows opened and closed from the outside, so I had to leave the yurt to complete this task. The straps that held the rolled window covers up were higher than I am tall, so I had to stand on a small step ladder in order to unlatch the strap and lower the covers.

I’d just finished zipping down the last panel when I heard a car pull into the campground. Something about the way the car slid on the gravel told me the driver was on a mission. I ducked into the yurt and hoped the people in the car would go away so I could get out of there undisturbed. Of course, that was not to be.

Hello! Hello! I heard a feminine voice yelling just outside the yurt. When I turned around, I saw a woman who was probably in her early 60s standing on the small back porch. Her hair was grey, but she seemed athletic and well moisturized. She had unhooked the yellow chain that’s supposed to convey to people not to step onto the porch (but often fails at its job). She was assuring me she was going to replace the chain, but I wished she’d never moved it to begin with.

I didn’t open the door. For security reasons, I don‘t open the door once the Mercantile is closed. For reasons pertaining to my sanity, I don’t open the door once the Mercantile is closed.

Did you just close? the woman asked through the flimsy glass covering the door’s window.

No ma’am, I answered. We closed at five.

This seemed to disappoint her. Perhaps she thought if I’d just closed, I’d be more inclined to let her into the store.

Ok, the woman said, undeterred. I have a few questions.

Here we go, I thought.

I was talking to the camp hosts here yesterday…she started

They’re on their day off, I said, in no mood for exposition. I’d anticipated her question of Where are they now? or maybe When will they get back tonight?

Oh, ok, she said, seemingly giving up on her idea of speaking to the camp hosts that evening.

What kind of food do you sell in the store? she asked, moving onto the next item on her agenda.

I listed some of our snack options. Chip, usually, but we’re out right now. Payday bars. M & Ms.

I don’t eat any of that! she snapped at me as if I should have already known her dietary habits. Do you sell any fresh Assorted Vegetable Lot vegetables?

No, ma’am, I said. No fresh vegetables. There’s a general store 10 miles down the road…

I was just there, she interrupted. They didn’t have any fresh vegetables either.

I wasn’t surprised by the lack of fresh vegetables for sale on the top of the mountain.

The closest place to get vegetables is probably the town at the base of the mountain, I told her. There’s a grocery store down there.

The woman seemed supremely displeased by the lack of fresh vegetables in the area but ready to move on to another topic.

Person Holding Outlined MapMy camp host says you have a map of the trails, she said.

We have one map, I replied. It’s $20. But the store is closed.

By “closed,” I didn’t just mean the doors were locked and the window covers were down.  I meant there was no money in the register. All the money had been counted and was now locked in the safe. I’d gone through the register’s closing procedure, and the drawer was no longer active. Once the drawer was inactive, it wasn’t activated again until the next morning. The entire point of purchase system was closed for the night.

I have an excellent map! the woman said as if I should have known that too. I just want a sheet that shows the trails in the area.

During my time working in the Mercantile, tourists often thought they were going to find stacks of free literature in the store. They thought we were a division of the Forest Service and would have free maps and brochures to hand out. Most people were surprised to find out I didn’t work for the Forest Service but instead for a private company that paid a lot of money to the Forest Service for a permit to do business in the Sequoia National Forest. The Forest Service did not give us any literature to give out. Any handouts we gave to tourists (and there were a couple), were photocopied at the expense of the company for which I worked.

No ma’am, I told the woman on the back porch. I don’t have anything like that.

She explained again what she wanted, in the event I hadn’t understood her the first time, and dropped in another my camp host said for good measure. I didn’t point out that I wasn’t sure her camp host had ever looked around in the Mercantile to see what we actually had there, and when she asked about a map showing trails, he probably referred her to the map we sold for $20. I also didn’t point out that if I had anything vaguely resembling what she was looking for, I would have gladly handed it over just to get rid of  her so I could go back to my camp after an almost nine hour day mostly on my feet. Instead I just repeated. No ma’am. I don’t have anything like that.

Finally she took me at my word and left. I huddled in the store until I heard her car pull away, lest she think of new questions and accost me before I could lock the door and make my way to my van.

Images courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/art-business-closed-logo-1152831/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/assorted-vegetable-lot-1300972/, and https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-holding-outlined-map-793088/.

 

 

Earning Money by Participating in Drug Studies (Part 1)

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100 U.s. Dollar BanknotesWhile I was writing the recent post about places for nomads to find money-making opportunities, I thought about drug studies. Even the longest drug studies only involve a temporary commitment, and they typically offer a good financial reward on the time invested.

While it’s true that I haven’t participated in a drug study in nearly a decade, I’ve participated in several throughout my life. Today I’m going to share my knowledge of drug studies based on my experiences in the early to mid 2000s. Of course, the world of drug studies may have changed since then, so like all of my posts in which I share information, think of this post as a starting point for the research you will do before you decide if being a drug study participant is the right choice for you.

First of all, what do I mean by “drug study”? According to the website of the National Institutes of Health Office of Person Using Black Blood Pressure MonitorExtramural Research, a clinical trial (the more official term for a drug study) is

A research study in which one or more human subjects are prospectively assigned to one or more interventions (which may include placebo or other control) to evaluate the effects of those interventions on health-related biomedical or behavioral outcomes.

(The underlined terms in the above definition are themselves defined on the aforementioned webpage.)

Basically, in a clinical trial the environment is manipulated in some way so the outcome can be studied. The manipulation often occurs in the form of taking a drug, or thinking you’re taking a drug but really taking a placebo.

All of the clinical trials I participated in were for healthy volunteers. The National Institutes of Health Clinical Center webpage for patient recruitment says

[s]omeone with no known significant health problems who participates in research to test a new drug, device, or intervention is a “healthy volunteer” or “Clinical Research Volunteer”.

Macro Photo of Stethoscope and PensYou may be wondering who conducts and pays for clinical trails. According to a MaRS webpage explaining the difference between sponsors and sponsor-investigators,

In the conduct of a clinical trial, a sponsor is an individual, institution, company or organization…that takes the responsibility to initiate, manage or finance the clinical trial,1 but does not actually conduct the investigation.

Apparently a clinical trial can also be conducted by sponsor-investigator, who, the aforementioned website says,

takes on the responsibility as a clinical study sponsor and also conducts or oversees the clinical trial.

As far as I know, all of the studies I participated in had a sponsor (usually a drug company) who hired a private company to conduct the investigation.

Ok, so how healthy does a person have to be to get into a clinical trial? Most study sponsors want participants who don’t smoke cigarettes or use other tobacco products. At the very least, study requirements typically prohibit volunteers from using tobacco while participating in the trial. Refraining from alcohol during the study is necessary too. Sponsors also want participants who don’t do drugs, either street drugs, prescription drugs, or over-the-counter medication. I’ve gotten into studies even after I confessed to taking vitamins, but it was with reluctance on the part of the recruiter. Ideally, sponsors want people who don’t drink alcohol, use tobacco products, or take any drugs ever! They also don’t want you if you show up for a screening (more on that later) or check-in with a cold, a headache, or any sort of sickness.

Another aspect of “health” study sponsors are concerned with is weight, or specifically, Body Mass Index (BMI). Study sponsors want volunteers to be in the “normal” range, so they don’t want people who are too “overweight” participating in their trials. In my experience, descriptions of specific studies will include what BMI range is acceptable. I found it helpful to know my BMI so I didn’t waste time applying for studies my BMI would disqualify me for anyway. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention website offers a BMI calculator you can use.

Person Standing In Front Of Food TrayStudy sponsors are not too keen on people with special dietary restrictions, whether those restrictions are for health, ethical, or religious reasons. Sponsors believe it’s important for all human subjects in a trial to eat the same foods, so they’re not going to allow a vegetarian or vegan into a study where they plan to feed the participants a typical meat-based diet. I’ve heard that at some study facilities subjects are required to eat everything on their plates at each meal. I’ve never been in a facility like that; every study I participated in allowed me to decide what and how much of what I was given I would eat at any meal. I did witness people in other studies being required to eat everything on their plates.

Study sponsors are also very concerned that study medications not be allowed to affect any fetus. Typically pregnant women are not allowed to participate in clinical trials, and often female volunteers are advised not to get pregnant for some time after the study is over. Because of these concerns, female volunteers are required to be sterile or on an approved method of birth control. Women not on hormonal birth control typically need to use a barrier method with spermicide as their form of birth control in order to be accepted as study participants.

I know I have used the word “volunteer” throughout this post, but don’t worry, human subjects do get paid. (Believe me, I would not take study medication if I weren’t getting some money for my trouble.) According to the 2012 Money Talks News article “7 Things to Know Before You Join a Clinical Trial,”

Your pay depends on the “phase…”Of the four types of trial…Phases I through IV – Phase I is the earliest, when the effects and outcome are least understood…

Early trials are small, but they’re easier to qualify for (healthy adults can participate) and pay more…Later trials are bigger but…usually offer less [money].

Pay rate also depends on the area of medicine..The highest amounts are offered for cardiovascular disease, neurology, endocrine, gastrointestinal, and blood disorder…

(Warning: most of the links in the article just mentioned no longer work.)

In my experience, other factors such as how long the subject is required to stay in the study facility, how many follow-up visits are required, and how many blood draws are involved in the study also help determine how much compensation a volunteer receives for participating in a clinical trial. The most money I ever earned for participating in a drug study was a little over $3,000 for staying 21 nights in the study facility and taking two psychotropic drugs already on the market. The study sponsors wanted to know how the drugs would interact when taken together. Most of the drug studies I participated in paid between between $1,000 and $2,000 dollars for a five to ten night stay.

Yes, that’s right, you typically have to stay in the study facility during the clinical trial. This is not always the case–I’ve participated in a handful of studies where I went home after taking the study medication, then made a predetermined number of follow-up visits in person or checked in via telephone or email–but typically study participants stay in a medical facility for a predetermined number of days. Staying in the facility helps the folks carrying out the trial be sure no one is smoking or drinking alcohol or taking other drugs while on study medication. It also allows for immediate medical attention from a member of the round-the-clock nursing staff if the study medication causes a dangerous adverse effect. For some people, being confined to the study facility was the hardest part of participating in a clinical trial, but I made good use of my time reading, writing letters, and catching up on cheesy television shows.

Not that I’ve given you an overview of how participation in a clinical trial works, you can start considering if it is right for you. But don’t make a decision yet! Next week I’ll give you some ideas of how to find clinical trials to participate in, what to expect during the initial phone screening as well as the in-person screening, and how to prepare for check-in and your stay in the study.

Some of the information in this post comes from my memory and is correct as far as I recollect. Other information comes from my research on the internet and is correct as far as I can determine. This information is offered as a starting point for your own research, not as the definitive answer to all your questions. Blaize Sun is not responsible for you. Only you are responsible for you.

Images courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/abundance-achievement-bank-banknotes-534229/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-using-black-blood-pressure-monitor-905874/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/healthy-clinic-doctor-health-42273/ https://pixabay.com/en/no-smoking-logo-symbols-warning-24122/, and https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-standing-in-front-of-food-tray-734542/.

Blogiversary

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On February 5, 2015 I started a blog. It had a different name then. I called it Throwing Stories into the Ether because I felt as if I were releasing my writing into the air, never knowing if it was being read or appreciated.  It was a fine name, but difficult for people to remember, and it didn’t say anything about who I am or what I do. Some months into the endeavor, the blog–and I–became the Rubber Tramp Artist.

When I stared the blog, I thought maybe my sibling and a few of my friends would read it. Now the blog has over 600 subscribers. While having 600 subscribers is small potatoes compared to what many bloggers (and now vloggers!) have going on, my numbers continue to grow.

Stalagtites and stalagmites grow in a dark cave.


In the last four years I’ve written a lot, made some new friends, and seen amazing works of people and nature. From Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico to Arches National Park in Utah, I’ve shared my adventures. I’ve shared locations of beautiful free camping spots and told readers where to find fantastic public art. I’ve told stories of my family, both the one I was born into and the one I’ve created for myself.

In the beginning I shared a blog post every day. I kept that up until I got a boyfriend with a dog and my life was more full than it had been in years. I changed my posting schedule to every other day, but even that timetable became too much. Now I share a blog post every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with occasional blog extras on days when I want to share a second part of a long story or I’m writing about a holiday that is outside my normal posting schedule.

A saguaro cactus with six arms stands against a light blue sky with whispy clouds.
This saguaro is not just surviving, but also thriving in the desert.

The change I’m most proud of is what I do on Wednesday. At the suggestion of my dear friend and computer guy, every Wednesday I share a post of particular interest to vandwellers, rubber tramps, RVers, vagabonds, drifters, nomads, and travelers of all kinds. From how to get a job as a work camper at a campground to surviving and thriving in the forest, desert, and mountains, I tell readers what I know in hopes of making their lives easier.

While these posts are hopefully helpful to my community, they also take a long time to write. I don’t want to share just my knowledge, bu the knowledge of other folks who have experience with the topic at hand. I do a lot of research for each Wednesday post and include links when possible so readers can easily find the articles I reference and expand their research if they like. A 2,000 word Wednesday post can easily take hours to research and write.

An old blue Dodge van is parked. In the background is a Catholic church.
This was my van home for a time.

A subset of the Wednesday posts are interviews I’ve conducted and published. Each month I share an interview with a current or former vandweller, traveler, nomad, rubber tramp, or RVer. (Sometimes I interview couples too.) I don’t know everything, so I tap into the knowledge of the larger community. It’s fun for me to learn more about people and how they live. From ideas about the superiority of mini vans to lessons learned from being in an accident, I broaden the scope of my blog by sharing the life experiences with others.

Brightly colored handmade hats and copies of the book Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods sit on a table.
At the 2017 RTR, I sold copies of the book I wrote, Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods, as well as hats I made with my own hands.

In the midst of keeping up with my blog, in the fall of 2016 I wrote and self-published my first book. Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods is a collection of short personal essays about my two seasons as a camp host and attendant at the parking lot of a very busy trailhead. During the time covered in the book, I lived in my van on top of a mountain with no running water, no electricity, no internet access, and no phone service. You can say I got comfortable being with myself.

Writing and self-publishing a book is a huge accomplishment. I have ideas for four more books; the trick is finding the time to make them happen while still publishing blog posts three times a week, being in a relationship with my guy, playing ball with a demanding dog, maintaining friendships, creating art (and crafts!), occasionally making money, carrying out the tasks of daily life (cooking, eating, cleaning, doing laundry), and wasting too much time on social media and playing solitaire on my phone. Maybe I’ll need to delete the solitaire app and ban myself from social media for a while.

Stickers are fanned out on a white table. The stickers say Rubber Tramp Artist on the top. The image shows a smiling sun wearing sunglasses sitting behind the wheel of a light blue conversion van. The sun has its head out of the window. The sun has one hand on the steering wheel and the other is waving.
You can get your very own Rubber Tramp Artist sticker.

In the summer of 2018, I commissioned an artist friend of mine, Samantha Adelle, to create a logo for me. I told her what I wanted, and she made my vision a reality. I love that the artist used photos of my actual van to draw the van in the logo. I love that as Blaize Sun, I’m the actual sun, and I’m driving, smiling, and waving. I love that it’s a happy, happy logo. (As you can see from the photo, I had stickers made with my logo on them. By the summer, I hope to have apparel and other merchandise with the logo available for purchase.)

It’s been a busy four years. I’ve grown tremendously as a writer and (hopefully) as a person. Thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for reading my words. As long as I have readers, I hope to continue to write.


I Think I Made ‘Em Happy

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The couple walked up to the front door of the Mercantile just as I was about to close it. It was five o’clock–closing time–and I was ready to do my end-of-the-day paperwork and go back to my camp for dinner and relaxation.

Are you the camp host? the woman asked me when we met on either side of the screen door.

Oh no! I said, but the woman launched right into their campground woes anyway.

Gray Dome Tent Surrounded by Tall TreesThey had reserved site #4, but the walk from where they had to park their car to down to the camping area was too long.

We’re both 65, the woman told me, and apparently she believed their age determined that they couldn’t walk very far.

I explained that since I wasn’t the camp host, I couldn’t authorize a change in campsites. I told them the campground’s regular hosts were having a day off, but the relief host would come around some time that evening to fill out their permit.

The woman wanted to know what time the camp host would be there. I told her the host didn’t have a set schedule, but he usually patrolled the campground between 4:30 and 6:30 in the evening. She was anxious to gett their tent up before dark, which is a valid concern. I told her again she’d have to talk to the camp host about changing sites, since there was nothing I could do to help. I even told the couple how to find the campground (only two miles away) where the relief host was stationed and said they could go there and find the host if they wanted to talk to him right away.

I thought I’d handled their concerns to the best of my ability, but then they started asking about the Mercantile. Was it closed? (Yes.) Could they just take a peek inside. (Sure.)

They’d come back to the Mercantile in the morning, they said; I told them it opened at 9am.

I thought they’d be on their way then, either to find the relief camp host or to pitch their tent, but then the fellow asked me if we were having problems with our plumbing.

What? I asked. I was very confused, as the campground had no plumbing.

He’d seen all the gallon jugs on the ground near the 300 gallon water tank on the host site. Javier and Sandra the camp hosts kept gallon jugs of water there for campers to use to put out their campfires.

There’s no running water in this campground, I said cautiously. This lack of water was the kind of thing some campers got very angry about.

No running water? he echoed in surprise.

No, I confirmed. There’s no running water in this campground.

They didn’t know. The reservation website didn’t say. I was pretty sure the reservation website did say. The fellow was holding a handful of printouts from the reservation website, so I asked to see them. After shuffling through them and skimming the information contained therein, I’ll be damned if I could find anything about the campground’s lack of water. It didn’t really matter anyway. Even if I could prove to the couple that they should have brought water, knowing they’d messed up wasn’t going to magically provide the water they needed.

We have water in the store, I said as I ushered them in.

I could tell the fellow was angry, so I suggested he complain to the reservation service for not specifying on their website that the campground was dry. Then I dug out a comment card to go to the president of the company I worked for so the camper could lodge a complaint from that end too. The fellow seemed to calm down once I offered him a clear route of complaint.

The woman, on the other hand, had worked herself into a state of consternation over how many gallons of water Person Holding Green Hosethey should buy.

Should we get one or two? she kept asking her husband. She calculated several times how much water they would need before they’d go somewhere to get wash water out of a hose.

We have to cook dinner tonight. Pasta. And breakfast tomorrow. And we have to wash the dishes, she stated several times. Do we need both of these? she asked her husband more than once, gesturing to the two one-gallon  jugs she’d placed on the counter.

The fellow obviously didn’t care if they bought one gallon of water or two. I just wanted the woman to make a decision so I could collect payment, and they could leave me to close up shop for the day. Finally they decided to take both gallons, and I sent them on their way.

The next day I found out from the relief camp host that the couple had decided to stay on the campsite they’d reserved after all. The camp host had given them a gallon of water from beside the 300 gallon water tank so they could wash their dishes. He was absolutely not supposed to give that water to campers, but I didn’t say anything about it. The deed had been done; I’m sure the water had already been used to wash supper and breakfast dishes. Besides, I wasn’t the boss. It wasn’t my job to tell someone the rules about water from the tank.

Image courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/forest-trees-adventure-tent-6714/ and https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-hand-garden-growth-2259/.

Famous Trees

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I think they were Russian.

The mother of the family walked in first. Her makeup was tasteful and subdued, as was her hair, which was done, but not overdone. She wore a tight t-shirt with a shiny graphic on the front.

Good morning. How are you today? I asked when she came through the door.

Not good, she said. We are lost.  Her accent was thick.

She was followed in by two teenage girls. Neither of them wore makeup, and their clothes were more suited to a day in the woods than to a day at the mall.

Behind the girls came the husband/father. He was portly and had a headful of dark hair. He wore a casual shirt, but casual as in “casino,” not casual as in “forest.” He looked ten or fifteen years older than his wife, but perhaps it only seemed that way because she was better moisturized.

Where are you trying to go? I asked the woman kindly. I was actively working on being kinder and more compassionate instead of the raging meanie I’d been for weeks.

We are trying to see this tree…the General Sherman, the woman told me.

Oh yeah. They were lost.

This tree is famous. It is a very famous tree.

The General Sherman is in the Sequoia National Park, I began the speech I give when I’m asked about the location of the General Sherman. I spoke slowly and clearly, if a bit robotically. You are about 100 miles and 2½ to 3 hours from the Southern entrance to Sequoia National Park.

Then I said more casually, You have to leave this mountain, go back to civilization, then go up their mountain.

The woman looked glassy-eyed with shock. That was a fairly normal reaction when people found out how far they were from their intended destination. The first stage of wanting to see the General Sherman but discovering the distance still left to cover is shock.

The woman spoke to the husband/father in a language I could not identify. I’ll say it was Russian, but that’s really only a guess.

I told the woman how to get to the Park. I told her which way to turn to get on the appropriate highway and where to go from there to get to the highway that would take them to the Park. The woman dutifully translated to the husband/father. Now both of the adults looked at me with glassy eyes.

I sighed and pulled out the tourist information booklet we kept behind the counter for the map which showed our location and the roads to take to the National Park. I pointed out their route on the map.

The husband/father jabbed his chubby index finger at several different points on the map and spoke in an animated way at the woman. I couldn’t understand his words, but I think he’d moved on the anger state of realizing he was nowhere near the General Sherman. I noticed he kept jabbing his finger in a location quite south of where we were, but I had no idea what that was about.

At one point the husband/father went outside (probably to take some deep breaths and try to avoid a vacation induced heart attack), but the woman remained standing at my counter.

When I make reservation at hotel, it said it was only 40 minutes from National Park, she told me.

With a little more questioning, I realized she’d made reservations online at a hotel more than an hour south of where we were standing. The hotel’s website, she said, claimed it was only 40 minutes from the National Park. I knew if that claim had indeed been made, the hotel’s website was telling a big lie, but I kept my mouth shut on that point. At least now I understood why the husband/father was jabbing his stubby finger so far south.

The husband/father came back into the store. There was more finger jabbing at the map, more animated (on his part) and subdued (on her part) discussion in the language I didn’t understand. Then the woman looked up at me and asked, Are there any famous trees here?

Oh! That was rich! Famous trees!

I explained there was a trail featuring many giant sequoias across the street. They could pay $5 to park, then walk out on the trail and see lots of giant sequoias.

She asked again about famous trees. That’s when I wanted to crash my head repeatedly on the counter in front of me. Seeing giant sequoias wasn’t enough for these people; they only cared about seeing trees that were famous.

I dug around under the counter and came up with a flyer about the most famous tree in our area. This tree wasn’t the biggest or the tallest, but it was close. It had some credentials. The flyer had directions on it. I told the woman I couldn’t give her the flyer because it was my last one, but she could take a photo of it. She dutifully took a photo, but asked me if I could give her the address of the tree so she could put it into their car’s navigation system.

Ma’am, I said, totally defeated, trees don’t really have addresses.

There was more jabbing at the map by the husband/father, more finger tracing of the route, more animated discussion I couldn’t understand. When the fellow went out onto the porch again, I was finally able to make the woman understand she was in the National Forest and the General Sherman was in the National Park.

This tree is not famous.

Oh, she said slowly, there is difference between National Forest and National Park.

I think it was dawning on her that the website for the hotel where she’d made reservations had said it was 4o minutes from the National Forest, not 40 minutes from the National Park. I wondered when (or if) she was going to confess her mistake to her husband.

I reminded her again that her family could see giant sequoias right across the street, and she said they needed to think about it. The whole family, including the silent teenagers, went out onto the porch. I think they’d reached the grief stage of being so far away from the General Sherman.

When the adults came back into the store, they had perhaps reached the acceptance stage of being a long way from the world’s largest tree. They were far from the General Sherman, and they’d either have to embark on a three hour journey to see it, or they would go south to their reserved hotel room with their collective tail between their collective legs.

I think they’d decided to press on toward General Sherman because they tried to buy the map out of the tourist booklet. Of course I told them no. How would I help the next lost family (and I knew there would be others) if this family took away my only map?

 

 

 

Ten Places Where Nomads Can Look for Temporary Work

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I see some version of this question posted over and over again in Facebook groups for van dwellers, rubber tramps, nomads, full-time RVers, and other folks who live on the road:

How do you guys make money?

Folks who aren’t living off retirement funds, disability benefits, or inherited money are probably going to have to work at least part time to pay the bills. Even people who live simply still have to feed themselves and put gas in the tank, so what’s a broke nomad to do?

If you don’t want to settle in one place long enough to take on a permanent position, getting a temp job while on the road will put money in your pocket.

Here’s a list of ten places to look for work that will last a few days (or maybe a few weeks) and allow you to earn the funds to get you down the road.

#1 Good ol’ Craigslist

While staying temporarily in major cities, I’ve been able to find plenty of short-term jobs through Craigslist ads. Thanks to Craigslist, I found a weekend gig selling lemonade at an ostrich festival, filled a position handing out cookie samples at a grocery store, got paid to help a woman set up her garage sell, was financially compensated for participating in physical and mental health studies at a major university, made a few bucks sitting on two mock juries, and got a dog sitting job that led me to getting paid for cooking and cleaning house for the dog’s person. I look under the “etc / misc” header in the jobs column, then skip down to look at the categories under “gigs.”

#2 Bulletin Boards

Look for bulletin boards around town. I often see them at libraries, grocery stores and laundromats. If you’re in a university town, look around on campus for bulletin boards. Any time I see a bulletin board, I scour the flyers for job opportunities. In Taos, NM one spring, The Man answered an ad I spotted on a flyer at the natural foods store and got a two-day job helping an older couple move. In addition to getting paid, he was fed lunch too!

#3 Help Wanted Signs

When I was in Moab, UT in April of 2018, there were help wanted signs all over the place. The Family Dollar (or was it the Dollar General?) had a help wanted sign on the front door. The mom and pop grocery store had a help wanted sign in the window. This recruitment method told me these stores were getting a little desperate to hire workers because things were going to get busy soon.

If I had been looking for a job in Moab, I wouldn’t have just applied at the places where I saw actual help wanted signs. The signs were a clue to me that the whole town was going to need workers in the very near future. If I had been looking for work in Moab, I would have stopped in at any place I might be interested or qualified to work in and asked to fill out an application.

Of course, a help wanted sign has the potential to lead to a job that’s going to last more than a day or two. That’s ok if you’re looking for something longer term. In a tourist town, a business might only be hiring seasonally, which may be perfect for you if you’ll want to move on when seasons change.

I recently learned of another way to earn money from help wanted signs. Job Spotter by Indeed is an app which allows people to earn points for taking photos of help wanted signs. The points can be exchanged for gift cards. The Penny Hoarder website has an article by with all the details. From what I’ve read, no one is going to get rich from the Job Spotter app, but if you are in a town where help wanted signs are posted, you could earn yourself some gift card credit this way.

Selective Focus Photography of Magazines#4 Local Newspapers

It might not even be worth looking at a big city newspaper for a job, but sometimes newspapers in smaller towns are kind of a big deal. If you’re in a small city or town, check out the help wanted section, either online or in the physical newspaper. Like to read a printed version of the newspaper, but don’t want to spend money? Look around for a discarded copy at the coffee shop you’re hanging out in, or ask at the local library if they have a copy available to the public.

#5 Word of Mouth

If you’re in a place where you know people or if you’re the outgoing type, talk to people and let then know you Smiling Person Holding Gray Stainless Steel Canare looking for work. If you overhear someone talking about needing to hire someone for a short-term job, introduce yourself. I’ve gotten some of my best pet sitting gigs because a friend of a friend was going out of town needed someone to care for the dogs.

#6 Facebook Buy/Sell/Trade Groups

In the small town where I spend my winters, people use the local Facebook buy/sell/trade group as a kind of electronic community bulletin board. Group members post about everything from bobcats harassing their house cats to tamales for sale. I’ve seen members post about needing help with yard work for an afternoon or weekend, and recently someone was looking for a person to clean her house regularly. If you’re spending some time in a small town and want very short term work, you may see if the community uses their buy/sell/trade group this way.

#7 On the Radio

KTAO 101.9 FM in Taos, NM has an on air “swap meet” called Trash and Treasures.

Listeners can call up and buy, sell, or trade any item or service that is not a live animal, business, or anything inappropriate…

Black and Silver Cassette PlayerA person in Taos with a skill could call Trash and Treasures and announce the desire to work to the entire radio audience. There’s a limit to how often a person can make such an announcement, but as long as the rules are followed an individual could offer yard work, house deep cleaning, dog walking, mural painting, or whatever skill one has to share.

I’ve heard that this sort of radio bulletin boards exist in small communities across the United States, so ask around if you’re in a little town.

#8 Remote Locations

If you’re already in a remote location (while camping, hiking, fishing, or doing some other outdoorsy activity) and would like to stay longer but are running out of funds, ask any businesses in the area if they’re hiring. Last May, the restaurant/bar/general store down the road from where The Man and I worked on the mountain hired two sets of people (a married couple who live in a short bus and a couple of guys traveling together) who were just passing through. All the folks worked through the busy season, then headed out after Labor Day.

The Big Boss Man needed another worker at the parking lot and ended up hiring a woman who’d come into the Mercantile and asked the other clerk (who also happened to be the Big Boss Man’s wife) How do I get a job up here? She’d been living in her car in the town at the foot of the mountain, and needed money for the next leg of her journey. She worked for a couple of months, which helped out the crew on the mountain, then moved on at the end of the season with some coins in her pocket.

Businesses in such remote locations are often in dire need of workers, so if you’re there and would like to stay for a while, ask around to find out if anyone needs help.

#9 Construction Sites

I’ve never tried this myself, but I’ve been told there’s potential for short-term work at construction sites. Have tools Man Wearing Black Denim Pants With Carrying Hammer on Holsterand skills? Track down the boss at a construction site and offer your services. If the crew is short and on a deadline, you might get hired on the spot. If you have a pickup truck and the ability to haul construction waste to the dump, you might get paid to perform that service.

#10 Temp Agencies

If you’d prefer to get jobs through more formal channels, try a temp agency, also known as a staffing agency. When I worked for Manpower, I got jobs supervising equipment at a dog food factory, packing jewelry into boxes, washing dishes in a school lunchroom, tallying votes after a local election, and removing staples from financial documents. Most of these jobs lasted just a day or two, and I was assured I was free to turn down any job for any reason.

Other well-known staffing agencies include Kelly Services and Addeco. A Glassdoor article by entitled “14 Great Staffing Agencies to Help You Kick Start Your Job Search” recommends other temp agencies to consider. The agencies listed in that article include the following: Integrity Staffing Solutions (office/clerical, professional and industrial staffing) and PrideStaff (office support, finance and accounting, light industrial, legal support, telemarketing, and customer service).

If you’re interested in getting a seasonal job at a campground, check out my post “10 Steps to Getting a Job as a Work Camper at a Campground.”

I hope these ideas will help you find work if and when you need it. Remember, this post is a starting point; get out there and do your own research! Blaize Sun is not responsible for you! Only you are responsible for you!

Images courtesy of https://www.pexels.com/photo/blur-cash-close-up-dollars-545065/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/advertisements-batch-blur-business-518543/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/marketing-man-person-communication-362/, https://www.pexels.com/photo/black-and-silver-cassette-player-159613/, and https://www.pexels.com/photo/hammer-craftsman-tools-construction-8092/.