Mindless Jobs That Pay Well Novels & Stories

" Praveen gulped. How hard it is, struggling all day in a stuffy room like this, without seeing the sun, chasing the target and only earning 350 rupees a day. He didn't know if he would be able to. He prayed that the worker who absent would return soon so that he could get another job. At least, it's not a confining job like this. This was not a job he can do.

“Right now, I’m working for someone named Mr. Lidell. He’s studying here in River City. My main job is to protect his safety in secret. You guys should take over for me while I’m recuperating! Mr. Lidell said if you work for him, he’ll give you the best treatment.” “Really? We’re the best at protecting the safety of our employers. Plus, our country is much safer than the other countries, so I’m sure it’s much safer. How much money will Mr. Lidell give us per month? I can only make eight thousand bucks a month on the construction site. I won’t say yes if it’s lower than that.” “You must be dreaming. Do you still think you’re abroad? How is this more tiring than working on a construction site?

"Don't worry pookie, I'm here to rescue you. There's a vacancy in the hospital where I'm working; I will be happy to help you apply!" "You're a nurse, I don't suppose I have the qualifications to fill any spaces__" "They need janitors, you don't need a degree for that." I sigh quietly, I suppose these are the only kind of jobs s high school drop out can get. "Don't be so quick to look down on it, the pay is even higher than the job you got fired from, and you won't have to deal with crazy assholes" "You work in a psychiatric home; the place is filled with crazy people," I mumble, and she scowls at me.

“Why’s everything in life about money? Why can’t passion pay the bills?” I pulled my laptop closer, opening tabs I didn’t even want to see. Job boards, classified ads, quick gigs. One headline caught my eye: **“Farm help needed. Milking cows. Few hours. Good pay.”** I laughed out loud. Me? On a farm? Still, my wallet was thinner than my patience. My eyes locked on the numbers. More than decent for a few hours. My lips twisted into a grin. Maybe cows were easier than people.

I have 31 through 62. Delivering mail is not a hard job. I don’t have the education for much. I am quite smart, but no formal education makes it hard to get a decent job. My job is quite monotonous, and it gives me free time to think. Too much time, actually. I wish I had enough money for a phone and cordless headphones because it would be nice to fill some of this time with audio books.

He struck me as someone slightly eccentric. He told me he would be in touch with my next task and to look out for his emails. I would also be paid $300 for my work tonight. The same sort of emails came through every week. I would then have $300 or sometimes $400 transferred into my bank account within minutes of me sending over my findings. It was the easiest job.

"Nala, get a grip! They don't force you to do anything illegal! You are serving drinks and getting big money from tips. Don't ask questions, and everything will be just fine." Of course, this must have been a dream job for many diploma-less young women. I was going to work only three nights a week, and I was still going to get a better salary than the ones I received in the convenience store, at the food market, and in the delivery company altogether. I felt as if I had won the lottery. Miss Bad Luck finally had luck on her side… ***

Not one bit! Best of all, she didn’t think about the money she was missing out on while she worked her honest minimum wage job. At least, not until her January paycheck came in. When she saw the numbers and did the accounting in her head, she computed just one fact—she was in trouble. Mindy was reading a magazine in her recliner when Helen limped into the apartment after getting her pay stub. Mindy instantly flipped the glossy cover shut and took her headphones out of her ears to ask Helen, “So, how was work? Did you get paid?”

Chapter 1 I’m twenty-four, a graphic designer with a fancy degree and a portfolio that gathers dust faster than it attracts clients. The eviction notice taped to my front door is the only color in my life right now. I toggle the browser window, hiding my lack of productivity. I’ve been doom-scrolling the darker corners of the net for hours, looking for freelance gigs that don’t require a soul, or at least pay enough to rent one. A link catches my eye, buried in a forum thread about "high-risk, high-reward employment." No flashy graphics, just plain text on a grey background: Live-In Companion. Total Surrender. One Year Contract. $2 Million payout.

The depressing thought lingered as she made her way to work. M.J worked 3 jobs at the moment. A part time job at the slaughterhouse, a part time job as a butchers assistant and a night job as a bartender. It kept her pretty busy so a more social life wasn't something she missed. But on mornings like this one sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have someone to talk to. The town of Lowder wasn't very big so Mj never bothered with a car. She would have had to maintain it and pay for insurance,and buying new shoes every couple months seemed more cost effective and much less headache to deal with.