I had two jobs at the same time; the first was a pole dancer in a gay bar, which was my night time job. That didn't last too long though, because of my other job. The daytime job was as an orange tester in a chocolate factory. Basically you had to prod the orange and if the flesh on the outside didn't go back to it's original shape within 2.455677 seconds, it was rejected. At the chocolate factory, I got into the habit of eating the misshapen [rejected] chocolates and got too heavy for the pole dancing; after I had bent the third one out of shape they let me go. I really wanted to move on to orange peeling, but I didn't have the fingernails for it. 

 

All things being equal, fat people use more soap