I didn't have a proper, full-time, reasonable-working-hours and paid-me-regularly job until I was 27. (Coincidentally, around the same time I consolidated my dozen super accounts.)

My 20s were a glorious mess of studying and hustling, odd-jobs and creative pursuits, with a bit of interstate travel thrown in for good measure. I spent a good deal of it panicking about the not-so-clear career path that felt more like a career swamp.

Turning 31 has felt like some strange magic switch where the chaos my 20s feel like a distant memory, and replaced with this unfamiliar feeling of job security, career progression and financial independence. Weird! So I thought I'd take a little walk down memory lane and write down just how many jobs I had in my 20s. Here are some high (and low) lights.

Debt Collector

This was an excellent job to be hungover for. Which was lucky, because at this point in time, I was hungover a lot. (I was studying creative arts, which meant I was drinking a lot, and then I was studying law, which meant I was drinking even more.)

Somehow, Garry from Keilor screaming down the phone at you because he hasn't paid his credit card bill in four months and somehow that was my fault, was made a lot more bearable with the dull ache of the lingering nine glasses of $1 sparkling wine from the night before.

Professional Fairy

This on the other hand, was not an excellent job to be hungover for as I found out very quickly. Twelve toddlers screaming "Elsaaaaaaaa! ELSAAAAA!" for two hours does not mix with a hangover.

Once I learned to not double down on the cheap wine the night before, this was a dream job. I got to dress up! Hang out with kids that adored me (well, Elsa or whatever character I was that day)! Get paid a bucket load for a few hours work! The latter was especially desirable as a fairly broke uni student.

The ever-present glitter that followed me around for four years didn't even bother me. I did however, have one party where a small child asked me if I was having a baby. (Well, she asked Princess Ariel if she was having a baby. Damn you, free birthday cake and too-tight mermaid dress.) I also had a grandfather ask if I was available to host his 70th later that month (haha, hahahah, cool cool cool cool cool) and broke several glasses at an extremely expensive restaurant with my fairy wings. Swings and roundabouts, I guess.

Murder Mystery Actor

I used to clamber aboard iconic tourist attraction Puffing Billy in the midst of winter in a ballgown (Do you know how cold Belgrave gets in July?! I definitely didn't get paid enough for that) and tell passengers I was the 1920s socialite Isabella de Luca, and oh my, is that my husband dead on the railway tracks up ahead? Well, it couldn't possibly have been me!

Ha! It was me! Well, sometimes, depending on the plot of that particular night. It was poorly paid and more like a hobby, but there was a free dinner and I got to put on my resume that I was a paid actor. Which is very important when up until that point you'd been an unpaid actor.

Print Journalist

Yes, I really enjoyed working non-stop 24/7 in a small coastal town far away from home where I didn't know anyone and had no access to resources or support thanks to the gutting of regional newspapers a few months prior, why do you ask?

Breakfast Radio Announcer

My alarm failed to go off on the morning of my very first shift as a breakfast announcer in regional NSW. It was my worst work-related nightmare come true. I got a call from the announcer on the other station politely asking where the f*ck I was.

I was only filling in, but eight weeks of getting up at 4am every morning for work knocked me for six. I got incredibly sick, my body clock was out of whack and it was in the middle of winter, so despite being in beautiful sunny Lismore, I was waking up to 4 degrees most morning. 

Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Themed Restaurant Hostess

Okay, technically this one was more of a job trial, because it went so horribly bad that I didn't make it past three hours. I was dressed up in high heels, stockings, a corset, and eye makeup that would make Taylor Momsen weep. I felt like a total badass greeting customers, feeling like a sexy (if not somewhat inappropriately dressed) vampire.

Then the job actually started.

I was made to wait on 120+ tables with a very, very confusing number system. Table 28 was next to table 47, which was nowhere near table 48, that was on the other side of the room, but it was next to table 118, which was near table 2. After having the floorplan shoved in my face for all of two seconds, the manager was surprised that food was going to random tables, courtesy of yours truly.

"It's not going to work out," she told me.

"Okay, fair enough!" I said, standing there in my underwear.

Cool, cool cool cool cool.