Delivery boy — Technically, my first job. I was a prescription mule for the local pharmacy, zipping around on my bike like a budget courier with zero insurance. Kept me fit. Also gave me thighs of steel.
Rifle range target marker — Nothing quite says “occupational hazard” like sitting in a bunker in front of live ammunition. The work was repetitive, the pay was terrible, and the constant low-level fear of being accidentally perforated taught me to keep my head down (an important life skill).
Nursery labourer — Sun. Soil. Manure. Just me and a shovel, bonding with bags of steaming fertiliser. I lasted two weeks before heatstroke and common sense staged an intervention. To this day, the smell of chicken manure sets me off.
Car yard washer — On busy Parramatta Road, no less. A glamorous career scrubbing panel vans and utes until they shone like slightly less disappointing used cars. Honestly? A huge relief after the compost fiasco. Nothing like a sponge and the whiff of Armor All to make you feel like you’re moving up in the world.
Lawnmowing contractor — Holiday job. Mow. Sweat. Hydrate. Repeat. I was tanned, tired, and the fittest I have ever been in my life. My body has never quite forgiven me for not maintaining that standard.
Computer programmer — Four years of automating a production line with people I actually liked. The factory floor was full of fascinating people. The computers, not so much. I eventually realised I cared more about the humans than the hardware. Time for a change.
Taxi driver while studying theology — Now this was education. Driving through the city, picking up strangers, and hearing everything from whispered regrets to grand conspiracies. Everyone had a story. I just had a steering wheel and a willingness to listen.
Simple Parish Minister — Nineteen years in Lismore and Pittwater, helping people through weddings, funerals, floods (four in three years, just to keep things biblical). It wasn’t glamorous, but it was fun and it was real. Holy ground, muddy boots, the occasional existential crisis, and always, always, people.
Theology lecturer — Preaching, leadership, pastoral care. Basically teaching people how to keep it interesting in the pulpit and not emotionally combust in a parish. Loved it. Then became Academic Director and promptly drowned in compliance paperwork, filling out forms for the government. Important, yes. Human? Not so much.
College Principal — 300 university students from 37 different countries. Basically a mix of cultural advisor, crisis counselling, property maintenance, and occasional career advice. Every day is different. Every day is full.
Next up: Retirement (sort of) — I’m transitioning to that elusive state: retired but still useful. The aim is simple — invest in people’s lives, minus the pay cheques and meetings. Maybe a few walks with the dog, a few coffees, read some good books, write a bit each day. Possibly even a nap.
In conclusion: I never really had a planned-out career path. But I did have a life. A wonderfully messy, people-filled, sometimes sweaty, always spiritual, often surprising journey through work that somehow led me exactly where I needed to be.
And honestly? I wouldn’t change a thing. Except maybe the nursery job. That can stay in the annuls of history.
The Afterword 
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