I guess nature or nurture produces a touch of the picaresque in you.
I think of myself as maybe a little adventurous, but then my my father tells me about the jobs he had in high school/college.
We were discussing my half-uncle and aunt who eventually lived in Mineola, when my father popped out with the fact that he’d been a ticket taker in the county fair there back in the ’40s. Another time he worked in an ironworks, and one summer crewed on an ore boat as “coal passer and oil wiper”–that was the rating–as it traveled between Lake Michigan and Lake Superior.