On the face of it, my work history is about what you’d expect from an English major with no clue what to do with her life. The problem has been the aftermath. There’s been a lot of damage. In my previous column, I outlined my history from the demolition of my elementary school to the economic collapse in Japan after I taught English there. But before I get started, I want to point out that I have worked several places with no unfortunate consequences. Still, I am careful what I say in job interviews. Usually, I go with the truth, “I love people!” rather than the truth, “If you hire me, the catastrophe is usually worth it.”

Here’s the rest of the story. I’m hoping someone out there can make some sense of this.

After Japan, I managed a game store in a mall in Tucson, Arizona. A few months after I left, the mall gave its last gasp and died.

Next, we moved to Houston, where I worked at a branch library. Amazingly, it’s still there, although Harris County, where we lived, won “most polluted city in America” during our stay.

We fled the heat and the smog and moved to Colorado where I worked on a small weekly newspaper. A few weeks after I moved on, the owner lost what little grip on reality he’d ever had, suffered a complete mental collapse, followed by his newspaper building burning down.

Next, we moved to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I worked at the main library. When my husband got a job in Ogden, I turned in my notice. This triggered the worst flood in 500 years, wiping out the library and half the town.

We sold our house (easy, there weren’t many left standing) and moved here in 2008. We both work at Weber State and I’m relieved to report that Weber is thriving, although it’s not in quite the same condition as when I found it.

I began as a secretary in the math department in old Building 4. When I moved to my current position in a different building, Weber instantly tore down Building 4 and neighboring Building 3.

I began work on a degree in psychology, graduating in spring of 2016. In response, Weber immediately tore that building down to the foundation and rebuilt. (Both buildings that replaced the ones that came down are beautiful. Now that my history is known, I wouldn’t say no to a small plaque honoring my contribution.)

Meanwhile, in my personal life, I was getting a taste of my own medicine. I accepted the task of leading the women’s organization at church. As soon as I said yes, the city decided to widen my street and tore down our house. Immediately after we moved, the church redrew the boundaries and reorganized the entire district.

Next, I decided to get a master’s degree. I defended my thesis in January 2020. I don’t want to talk about 2020. Now that things are almost back to normal, the building is scheduled to be demolished.

Now, it’s 2022. Everything has been fairly stable in my little world except for the floods in Yellowstone this year just after I visited. Oh, and there was a small fire that broke out after I helped my sister with some detail painting for her company, but that was minor. Retirement is still some years away, so I think everyone and everything is safe for now. My husband, Dave, says he’ll never divorce me because he’s afraid he’ll go up in flames if he does.

I’ve thought about ways to use my “gift” for good. I’ve considered taking a job with an organization like the mafia just so I could later quit and watch them disintegrate. But there are problems. For one thing, groups like this tend not to let their people quit. Plus, I can’t control what collapses and what comes back stronger than ever. I don’t dare risk it. Do any of you have any idea what I should do with this “skill”? I’m open to suggestions.

Anneli Byrd is an academic adviser in Weber State University’s Student Success Center.

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