We Did That?

by Sophie Stirling

  Dr. Wilson says—“The Belt made for me by Reast’s Patentee is the most comfortable I have worn. It gives great support to the muscles of the back, and will be found very useful to prevent stooping.”

  Dr. Haddon says—“I am now wearing your Belt Corset, and must say that it gives wonderful support. I shall certainly not fail to recommend it to my patients.”

  Recommended by doctors for gentlemen. Reast’s Patent Invicorator Belt.

  As I’m sure you have guessed, this trend did not last very long. It eventually became associated with Dandyism—being a man overly concerned with refinement and fashion. This characteristic was seen as too feminine, so men’s corsets uncinched their clasp on fashion very shortly thereafter.

  We Did That?

  Odd Jobs

  “Whatever your life’s work is, do it well.”

  —Martin Luther King Jr.

  Because Someone Has to Do It

  Somebody has to do those odd jobs. You know—the ones that are too niche to learn through a traditional college education. The career track you sort of just fall into with a twist of fate. Shark tank cleaner? Elephant costume stylist? There’s a human for the job.

  Some trades spring up out of popular demand, and fade away in a few years, and some are necessary for survival (until we find a machine to do the job). But, one thing is constant: odd jobs tell us a lot about the ingenuity and skill of the human race. People are talented! Many cunning.

  Also, these professions say a lot about their specific time period: the influence of religion, the fads of the people, and the state of the working world. So much can be learned from looking into the past. Though technology, science, and simple modernity have erased many of these jobs from our classifieds and help wanted listings, here—if only for a chapter—we’ll live vicariously through those odd balls who decided to be that “someone” who has to do it.

  Knocker Upper

  Through cobbled streets, cold and damp, the knocker-upper man is creeping. Tap, tapping on each windowpane, to keep the world from sleeping…

  —Mike Canavan

  Requirements: Pole, frozen peas, immunity to crankiness

  Job Status: Extinct

  I know this odd job sounds like someone who professionally impregnates women, but alas, it is not. A knocker upper was an early version of an alarm clock, in human form, that arose in the mid to late 1800s. People who had to rise early for work would pay knocker uppers to come around and tap on their windows to wake them up bright and early. Most customers had industrial jobs, which required a strict and early schedule. But not many could afford to buy a clock, which was usually too pricey for their paygrade.

  What the knocker uppers would do is use long poles to reach high-up windows they would tap, or, they’d shoot peas at them through a straw. They didn’t want to be waking anyone for free, so these methods were just loud enough to get the job done, but quiet enough not to wake the neighbor one window down.

  But who woke up the knocker uppers? The people of the day often had the same question. Here is a common tongue-twister-like rhyme that arose:

  We had a knocker-up, and our knocker-up had a knocker-up

  And our knocker-up’s knocker-up didn’t knock our knocker up

  So our knocker-up didn’t knock us up

  ‘Cos he’s not up.

  But to answer this plaguing question, many simply adapted a vampiric schedule. They slept in the day, waking up in the early evening, ready to start their shift in a few hours.

  This trade was eventually put to bed by mechanical alarm clocks. Seth E. Thomas patented the first in October 1876, but that didn’t really stop these guys. This job was a widely popular all the way until the 1930s, occasionally, knocker-uppers could be hired as late as the 1970s. After that, it officially hit the hay as a paid profession. Though I would argue the profession still exists. When I was a wee lass, my mom was my personal knocker-upper every morning before school. Until I discovered what an electric alarm clock (and responsibility) was. Now, every morning I’m stuck listening to a ringtone that’s too soothing to wake me up, but too perky to ignore and go back to sleep. I think you know which one I’m talking about. Sigh. Those good old days.

  The Thirty-Year Virgin

  Requirements: Female virgin, young, preferably noble-born, likes fire

  Job Status: Extinct

  In ancient Rome, girls between the age of six and ten—the time when my priorities were Britney Spears and saving up for a Walkman—were selected for a thirty-year term of service to the goddess, Vesta. These girls also had to have all their limbs (minor detail), and be born of noble parents. The job duties of a Vestal Virgin? To guard and tend to an ancient flame. Their mission was to serve the goddess Vesta, and tend to her shrine—keeping the flame burning—with some other miscellaneous tasks, such as ministering during Vesta’s feast days in June.

  The Greek-Roman essayist, Plutarch, wrote about these Virgins, saying, “Some are of the opinion that these vestals had no other business than the preservation of [the sacred] fire; but others conceive[d] that they were keepers of other divine secrets, concealed from all but themselves.” Not a bad gig, you might think. These women were absolutely revered in their society, often given freedoms other women weren’t allowed, such as owning property. But the price of this privilege was steep.

  If they lost their virginity, or made any minor error, the punishment was severe. Loss of their virgin status would mean they were brutally beaten, and then buried alive. Some sources even say they were force-fed molten lava.

  Other, more minor offenses, such as letting the fire go out, also came with great consequence. After all, the continuously burning fire was believed to be tied to the fortune of the entire city. Neglecting this sacred duty could bring tragedy to Rome.

  This job (for a job it was) remained a central part of Roman culture, until 394 CE, when the Christian emperor Theodosius I freed the Vestas from what he believed was a pagan ritual. Both their job, with all its perks, and the sacred fire, were snuffed out. You can still see the ruins of the Atrium Vitae, where they lived and worked, in the Roman Forum today.

  The Foretaster

  Requirements: Mouth, stomach, low self-preservation instincts, puts safety third

  Job Status: Active

  The ancient profession of food taster, officially known by its Latin name praegustator, or simply foretaster, has always been a bit of a gamble. While there are many dangerous jobs out there (police officer, construction worker, retail), this is a job you sign up for knowing you could surely die. Perhaps you already knew from history books that royals often had their food tasted, but did you know people would sign up for it? It was not just poor slaves who were thrust into this role.

  As the name suggests, foretasters would get paid to taste the dishes of royalty or the rich, so that, if the food was poisoned, the taster would die instead of their employer. Basically, taking the bullet. The food bullet. Why would anyone sign up for this? Well, we can guess these professionals thought that the benefits of this job outweighed it’s one major drawback. After all, you do get to enjoy some of the finest cuisines—food literally fit for an emperor or king. Also, out of loyalty to the ruler—blah blah. It also paid well. What is death to that, eh?

  One food taster remembered throughout history was a servant and eunuch named Halotus. He was the chief steward and praegustator for the Roman Emperor Claudius. The reason Halotus is remembered is quite ironic—he failed at his job. Spoiler alert.

  His boss, the emperor Claudius ended up being murdered. It was believed he was poisoned, and Halotus was the primary suspect in the investigation. Shocker, that is. But strangely enough, there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Halotus. So, he lived out the rest of his life in luxury. (Claudius’ successor ended up giving him a prestigious position…fishy, don’t you think?)

  Just because this odd job is ancient, how
ever, does not mean it has died out! Ba dun tsss. Rulers from Napoleon and Queen Elizabeth I, to Hitler, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, and US President Barack Obama, are known to have had food tasters. Poison is the stealthiest weapon of all; it accomplishes its task without revealing a killer’s face, and is sometimes so subtle that the cause of death is believed to be something else. As long as there are people in positions of power who are protected by strong walls, bodyguards, and the like, poison will unfortunately always be a tool—to the detriment of daring praegustators.

  Speaking of jobs that require tasting questionable things, here is one more.

  Dog Food Taster: It’s logical to assume that whichever species food is intended for should be the one to taste it, but when did life ever make sense? Human dog food tasters exist to evaluate the flavor, texture, and smell of dog food, in comparison to other brands. It’s interesting, yet, disturbing to note that we humans are more likely to buy food and treats that smell good to us, not necessarily our dogs. So, most of the artificial scents, dyes, and flavors that are included in dog foods are actually for our benefit. Did I mention there are people out there who have to eat dog food to earn a living?

  The Night Soil Men

  Requirements: Doesn’t mind getting down and dirty, dedication to getting shit done

  Job Status: Active

  Before there was plumbing, there were only a few options for getting rid of our, ahem, human waste. We could dump it into a river, or bury it in a hole. In cities, however, options were more limited. Cities were not the most enjoyable places to live pre-sewer systems. With few means of getting rid of our junk, it often found its way into the streets in the form of deep cesspools in the ground.

  How was this managed? Who were we to turn to? Well, when shit literally piled up, the night soil men came to the rescue! They are also known by the name gong farmer, and, in ancient Rome, stercorarius. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, “night soil” is a polite way of referring to human waste. These independent contractors would come around in their carts, collecting our poop, and other miscellaneous rubbish. Just like getting water out of a well, they would collect the sludge, bucket by bucket. When there was excess at the bottom that couldn’t be collected via bucket, the laborers would have to descend on a ladder into the depths of the hole. They were in deep shit!

  An eighteenth-century ad by a “Nightman & Rubbish Carter”

  seeking an apprentice.

  It wasn’t uncommon for the night soil men to be compensated with a bottle of gin. But there were other profits to be made as well. Once their tubs and carts were full, they would haul their loads outside of the city. The trash would be sorted for anything that could be repurposed or profited from, and the night soil would be sold at a decent price to farmers for crop fertilizer. The cycle of life: we eat the food, we poop the food, our poop fertilizes the new food.

  “Muckmen” or “gong-fermors” were other names used to refer to the night soil men in the past, but there is a modern Haitian word for this job as well: bayakou. Yes, this job is still alive today. In a National Geographic article by photojournalist Andrea Bruce, she provides an interesting lens into this profession. Bayakou, in her words, are “laborers who empty latrines.” Sanitation is still a deadly threat, and sewage still a system in progress in Haiti, so what these laborers do is visit the waste site—usually a hole dug in the ground—and insert the waste into bags (usually by hand), and cart it off in a truck. A similar procedure as practiced by the night soil men of the past. One thing is certain—even though it was, and still is, an unpleasant job, it is a necessary one. But sometimes, the oddest jobs are the most needed.

  Professional Cursers

  Requirements: Literate, can get creative, interested in the dark arts

  Job Status: Active, if you’re into that sort of thing

  If you had been robbed, cheated, or were simply pissed off at someone in ancient Rome, you had to take matters into your own hands. Or, rather, put matters into the hands of the supernatural. At the time, Rome didn’t have a formal police force, aside from the night watch. So, what better way to seek justice than to involve the gods, and curse the person who wronged you? How about etching their name with a really nasty jinx into a piece metal or stone that will survive thousands of years?

  This practice became such a hot commodity, that it was clear an official occupation was needed. A professional. No more of this amateur cursing going around. This is how the odd job of “curse-tablet maker” came about. All you had to do was pop ’round to your local curser, and they would carve the one you wanted, or even supply standard cursing language, if you weren’t very poetic. To achieve maximum cursage, the malediction would often be written backwards. It cost extra to add serpents, or the likeness of Medusa.

  Once your tablet was ready, you would either leave it wedged into the cursee’s walls, into their floorboards, or leave it at a temple or holy site. Many tablets have been discovered over the years in sanctuaries all over the world.

  I got to see some of these tablets myself, this past summer, when I visited the city of Bath, in England. In the Roman baths, which was both a gathering place and holy site dedicated to the goddess Sulis Minerva, there was an extensive collection of coins that had been cast into the water there over a thousand years ago. On these coins, or thin tablets made of lead, the cursers called upon the goddess Sulis Minerva—the patron of many things, including justice—to bring ill health or misfortune upon the person they named. Here are some curses that have been translated:

  “I curse Tretia Maria and her life and mind and memory and liver and lungs mixed up together, and her words, thoughts and memory; thus may she be unable to speak what things are concealed, nor be able.”

  “Docimedis has lost two gloves and asks that the thief responsible should lose their minds and eyes in the goddess’ temple.”

  “May he who carried off Vilbia from me become liquid as the water. May he who so obscenely devoured her become dumb.”

  For that last one, I think we can assume this person was talking about an animal that was stolen from them. Unless “he who carried off Vilbia” was a cannibal and kidnapped this person’s servant or child, in which case—may he become as liquid as water!

  Cursing spread to areas outside Roman territories, however. In Amathus, an ancient city in Cyprus, which is now an archeological site, a stone tablet was discovered, with this curse carved on it:

  “May your penis hurt when you make love.”

  OoOoo. Burn. Pun intended.

  Armpit Plucker

  Requirements: Attention to detail, ability to handle oneself in hairy situations

  Job Status: Extinct

  While we’re on the subject of ancient Roman baths, and things that sting… Visiting the baths was similar to the experience of going to a spa. After taking a long dip in the hot mineral water, you would get pampered in the adjoining rooms (think of them sort of like fancy locker rooms, since they were separated by sex). Once you detoxed in a room of steam, and got a nice rub down from one of the slaves there, you could also get groomed. And let me tell you, Romans were almost as bad as millennials are when it comes to removing body hair.

  The bath guilds employed people whose sole job was to pluck the hair from your armpits. Going hairless was extremely fashionable in the first and second century CE, so their services were widely used. They usually advertised vocally (and loudly). Their racket became so commonplace in society, that Lucius Annaeus Seneca, the tutor for young Emperor Nero, wrote “…and the hair plucker with his shrill and high-pitched voice, continually shrieking in order to be noticed. He’s never quiet, except for when he’s plucking armpits and forcing his customers to shriek instead of him.” Now, I don’t know any sadistic person who plucks armpit hair. No, we have wax and laser hair removal technicians to hear us shriek instead. Sometimes, things never change.

  Knock-Knobbler
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  Requirements: Bouncer attitude, loves church

  Job Status: Extinct

  Back in the days, when going to church was a requirement of religion for many, there existed a sort of bouncer for those who got too rowdy during services. They were known as knock knobblers. Not a name you hear every day. Another title they were often known by was “dog catcher,” but their job duties often expanded beyond those boundaries. How many stray dogs could there possibly be to catch, after all?

  From misbehaving children to those sermon-crashing stray dogs—a knock knobbler’s job was to get them out. They were employed by the church to keep order and quiet. But in their downtime, they had long sticks to poke anyone they caught snoozing. They were most active in England, during the Elizabethan era, snoozing their own way out of existence not long after.

  Plumassier

  Requirements: Feathers, artistic tendencies

  Job Status: Active

  The profession of plumassier is a special kind of bird. Plumassiers are craftspersons who design ornamental feathers. Well, I guess nature designs them. Plumassiers design the designed feathers! All for the love of avian fashion, these skilled artisans collect, treat, and design their fluffy products by hand. Not only do you have to really like feathers, but you have to have an artistic eye. Accessorizing with feathers goes back all the way to the Stone Age, and like all art forms, it has morphed. From ancient wall art to headdresses, fans, ball gowns, and feathered pumps you see on the runway today.