Solitary Jobs: From Lighthouse Keeper to Night Watchman

Jobs for those who prefer not to see anyone all day

There is a worker profile missing from employment statistics: someone who would trade any office with a view for a windowless warehouse. One employee puts it bluntly: he prefers lifting a hundred boxes or sweeping a hangar over dealing with customers. His only requirement is not having to speak to anyone. The question, posed on a forum, is what profession to study or civil service exam to take for remote work and minimal social contact. The answers sketch a map of trades where humans are an obstacle.

Lighthouse keepers, morticians and explosives guards

The list of options in the conversation feels nineteenth-century. Lighthouse keeper, with a garden and chickens if the atoll allows, is the most repeated suggestion and generates the most consensus. It is trinc by night watchman, caretaker of empty buildings, train wagon guard, and explosives guard. The latter, reportedly, pays well. Sheep herder and corpse makeup artist also appear, arguing that the deceased does not talk.

The private security sector concentrates many recommendations. Some argue it is ideal for those avoiding public interaction: night shifts, solitary patrols, and colleagues who may not show up all day. Shared experiences include used car lots where the only human visible is the shift partner. The cost is the schedule and salary scale, rarely rising above minimum wage.

Remote work is not the cave they promised

IT appears early, but with nuances that debunk the stereotype. Coding is not being alone: there are daily meetings, Teams calls, video conferences, and emails. In organized projects, this reduces to a half-hour meeting daily and one longer weekly session. In chaotic projects, meetings consume four hours, leaving little time for code. Interaction grows with experience: more responsibility means more people.

Those defending remote work as a refuge face another hurdle: it is not immediate. A participant who switched sectors says he had to accept three days in the office and two at home, noting full remote work takes years to achieve. Another points out a single programmer job posting accumulated 443 applicants in ten days. Remote work has become a scarce, contested privilege.

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Working with people: the sentence no one sees coming

The rawest testimony comes from education. A professional caring for disabled minors describes screaming, scratching, crying, tantrums, clothes and glasses lasting three news broadcasts, and risky situations with teenagers taller and heavier than the caregiver. He started at 27 and at 31 says he cannot endure it anymore. His plan is to get a security guard license and seek night shifts.

Another participant, same age, confirms the pattern: he worked with young children and concluded that while manageable at twenty, it is not at forty. He moved to IT and design, where problems are different and easier to handle. Vocation, both say, is not enough. Physical and mental wear eventually outweighs the satisfaction of helping.

Civil service exams as refuge and their fine print

Taking library civil service exams is another mentioned route, with the same motivation: minimal social contact. The cost includes events and on-call duties, including those related to gender violence. No contract comes without conditions. Administration is also suggested for those with recognized disabilities, assuming the institution adapts to the worker once hired.

The discussion turns to effort type. Some argue intellectual work is the worst paid and carries the heaviest mental load, while packing or cashiering is more bearable. Against this, the opportunity cost calculation: studying a degree to end up in a control room watching monitors, or doing a four-month bootcamp aiming for a well-paid remote role. The map is not closed.

How many jobs remain that allow spending the day without exchanging a word with a stranger?