Years ago, I cobbled together a living from a mixture of activities. We didn’t refer to it as “gig” work at the time.

One of my favorite jobs was as a “step-on guide.” When groups of tourists would come to town for a few days or people attending a convention might try to fill their scheduled “free” time, a local tour company would arrange a “highlights tour.”

Rather than give commentary according to a script, a step-on guide would meet a tour bus at a designated place and give a customized tour.

I liked the flexibility of the work. I liked spending time outside walking (a great change of pace from working at my desk with eyes locked on a monitor). I also liked meeting people from different places.

I didn’t arrange the tour. There were no concerns about the business end of things. I just had to show up — prepared to speak on local history and attractions — and be able to direct the driver.

I stopped doing guide work when I was more regularly engaged doing qualitative market research (long phone interviews) at a higher hourly rate. While posting my blog every week, I earned my living this way until getting laid off in March of 2020.

When I found myself in job hunting mode again, interested in generating some income while marketing my books and workshops, the research business had changed. Most projects involved computer surveys, for which I had no knack or interest.

For two years, during COVID, the local tour biz was non-existent, but, in recent months, it has been making a comeback. This coincided with my urge to find part-time work again.

Could I step back into life as a step-on guide? I asked myself if I should “get back on the bus.”

I contacted an independent tour operator for whom I liked to work and just took my first assignment.

Only weeks ago, I threw away my guide notes, which had been unused for years. Even though the history hadn’t changed (The Great Chicago Fire still happened in 1871), I had to get re-oriented.

As example, the Willis Tower, originally the Sears Tower, was built in 1974 as headquarters for the country’s largest catalog retailer, When I did most of my guide work, it was the eighth tallest building in the world. It’s now ranked as twenty-fifth tallest.

When I arrived at the group’s hotel at the appointed time, I started making small talk with group members in the lobby. I gave them choices and tried to answer questions.

The morning tour turned out to be a great experience, maybe extra special because I felt different than I did a decade ago when I performed this role frequently.

Before getting off the bus to begin their afternoon of shopping, the group’s escort bubbled that she would ask for me again if she had to take another group around Chicago. She slipped me a few bills as my “tip.”

Without expecting individual contributions, as the bus emptied, many other people shoved crumpled up currency into my palm.

Instead of focusing on how many factoids I could cram into my brain, I understood the job differently.

Being prepared was about being fully present, about listening to what people wanted to hear, about being genuinely concerned for their comfort and their plans for the rest of the day, about demonstrating my love for the city and for choosing to spend my morning with them as they experienced something new.

OMG, I thought as my fist filled up with greenbacks with pictures of Washington and Lincoln and Hamilton. I decided to take myself out to lunch along the riverfront. I spent nearly an hour at a riverfront spot drinking a beer from micro-brewery in Logan Square.

I noticed dogs walking their humans along the path and random kayakers in the dirty green water of the Chicago River. I was happy just watching the river flow.

I was having my own “tourist” experience. I found myself taking time to enjoy, to savor, everyday life.

Feeling like a tourist close to home is no small thing.