The ability to fall asleep anywhere is the talent that bites back. Because you end up falling asleep everywhere.
I used to work at Questacon (the National Science and Technology Centre, a popular tourist attraction) which gets extremely quiet in February each year as the school term starts. And by “extremely quiet” I mean “post-apocalyptically quiet”. On one day, there was a total of six customers (who emerged rather shaken after entering each gallery only to meet a jibbering attendant who offered them a personalised tour, then begged them not to leave). That time of year, it was often difficult not to fall asleep. I combated it by walking around and around in circles.
But then there’s my other job: tutoring. Now tutoring only goes for an hour at a time, and is very intensive (I can generally teach an entire week’s worth of material in any subject given 1-2 lessons). You’d think that would keep me awake. You’d be wrong. One of my less-than-proud moments was when a student was rehearsing her speech for class and, while supposedly critiquing her, I fell asleep.*
In order to supplement my tutoring income, I sometimes do after-school care, which fundamentally involves picking kids up from school and then either watching TV or reading a book while they amuse themselves (or, sometimes, actually doing something – but not with my current family, who made it very clear the only reason I was there was in case the house spontaneously combusted. It hasn’t yet, so everyone’s happy). Last week, as both children played computer games, I laid my head on the arm of my chair – and slept.
The thing that makes this awesome? Firstly, I was still getting paid. Secondly, when I mentioned it to the parent in question, he was pleased.
Best. Job. Ever.
Also, the kids are nice.
Have you ever fallen asleep somewhere you probably shouldn’t have?
*Arguably, a valid response. Or at least, it was valid the first two times.