John Anny’s parents have no idea he spent a semester working as a model. A nude art model, that is.
“My Mom probably would have been okay with it,” he said, laughing, “but I have no clue how my Dad would react. I mean it is a job, and there’s nothing wrong with it, but I’m not sure how they’d feel.”
Parents tend to have mixed feelings about their children being naked in front of large groups for extended periods of time. But bills have to be paid.
Between tuition, textbooks and enough coffee to survive 7:30 a.m. classes, student expenses add up quickly. To help ease this monetary burden, many pick up part time jobs. While some students work in retail, wait tables or get jobs working on campus, others find less orthodox ways to make ends meet.
Most students wouldn’t apply for Anny’s job. For $12 an hour, the computer science junior stood perfectly still in front of art classes, completely nude. Students learning how to draw the human form studied Anny’s body and spent a semester translating his physique to paper. The experience was daunting for him in the beginning. Then, it became like meditation, he said.
Once he got past the awkwardness, art modeling became an escape from his hectic student life. While modeling, Anny had time to zone out and relax, something he said improved his life. 
“Whatever stress you have, it all just kind of goes out the window.”
Anny found a job that paid more than minimum wage, didn’t require working late nights or weekends and was tolerable for him. Unfortunately, unorthodox means of making extra cash aren’t always so easy on students.
 Just a Small Prick
Rebecca Stewart doesn’t share the same fondness for plasma donation that Anny has for nude modeling. That’s not to say the film studies senior hated the experience; she recommends it to any student who meets the donor eligibility requirements and feels strapped for cash. She describes the process the way most people would describe a doctors visit – not terrible, but not exactly great either.
“You go through a screening process, they check your vitals, they do a basic check up just to make sure you’re suitable to donate physically,” Stewart said. “They also get a very detailed history – basically like when you donate blood — and they ask you those personal questions, but much more extensive.” 
Once nurses cleared her for donation, Stewart’s blood was drawn and put through a process known as plasmapheresis, which separates plasma from red blood cells and other cellular material. The red blood cell and cellular material mix was then returned to Stewart, ensuring that she left the clinic with the same volume of blood as when she arrived.
Having blood removed, filtered and returned can be taxing. The few times Stewart had not prepared herself for donation, her body experienced the ramifications instantaneously. She passed out twice after donating. 
“I hadn’t eaten in a while, and I was thirsty too,” she said. “It was definitely a situation where I just wasn’t taking care of myself.”
Despite a few unpleasant experiences, Stewart said she’s glad she donated her plasma. For her, all of the negative aspects of plasma donation are outweighed by the beneficial outcome – and, of course, the financial compensation. 
“You’ll see these posters on the wall of a kid who has some kind of terminal illness, and they’re thanking you because your donation because it’s helping them be able to play baseball or something,” Stewart said. “It’s an awesome way to make money, but you’re still there to make money.”
Stewart said payment varies. Donation centers set their own rates, and sometimes clinics have “specials”  to entice more people to donate. Stewart said that on the right day, first-time donors can make as much as $95 a week. The combination of altruism and financial benefit was exactly what Stewart wanted.
“I’ve always had a desire to help other people, and that usually doesn’t pay well,” she said. “So this was one of the nice ways I could do something that I actually got money for, and I was helping people at the same time.”
 Talking it Out
Mass communications senior Rachel Weaver briefly considered donating her plasma, as Stewart had. But unlike Stewart, the physically taxing costs didn’t seem to outweigh the benefits. But Weaver has always sought less traditional jobs.
“I hate working weekends,” she said, “so a restaurant waiting job – like a lot of college kids have – just seems super unappealing to me.” 
Weaver found a job that incorporated her experience and her hatred of working weekends, with an added bonus – an hourly salary most students would kill for.
Weaver works for Louisiana Economic Development, a small branch of the Louisiana state government tasked with enticing companies to bring their business to the state. One of LED’s programs, Fast Track LED, makes training videos for companies. Weaver does voiceovers for those training videos. 
Weaver has worked as a radio DJ since she was in high school. Her experience in radio helped land her the voiceover job. A representative from the company brought flyers to the KLSU office, where Weaver works, looking for voice talent. For Weaver, the money was too enticing for her to pass up.
Weaver was hired by Fast Track. The work is not consistent enough to live off. Weaver only gets called in when new companies need training videos, meaning she can go six months between gigs. Weaver sits in an isolation sound booth reading out employee safety measures for three or four hours at a time. Weaver described the work not as tedious or boring, but exhausting.
However, the pay is good. Just how much does she make?
“I’d rather not say, because I don’t want everyone climbing after my job,” she said, “but it’s a pretty high hourly rate.”
Think Small 
Unlike Anny, Stewart and Weaver, who found their unorthodox jobs after arriving at LSU, Blair Brown, communication studies sophomore, brought her job with her from home. Brown began crafting at a young age as a way to bond with her younger sister. 
“It was always really fun for us to be able to do tactile things together,” Brown said.
Brown molded doll-sized items out of polymer clay. She also made a dollhouses, which she donated to local children’s shelters.
When she got to middle school, Brown realized her tiny recreations had the potential to be more than dollhouse dressings. 
“This can be an earring,” Brown said excitedly, as she reenacted her middle-school realization. “Everything can be earrings! So I’d learn how to miniaturize it so I could make earrings.”
Brown’s idea that she could make anything into jewelry has stuck with her ever since, and it led Brown to her current career as an Etsy shop owner. 
On “The Blarify,” Brown sells her polymer clay miniatures as earrings, necklaces and bracelets. Brown has sold “Despicable Me” minion earrings, charming clay replicas of the titular character from “The Brave Little Toaster,” sugar skulls, depictions of Powerpuff girls, Dexter and Snoopy. But her most popular items right now are Poké Bras, bras with Poké Ball designs on them.
The product description for the Poké Bra on Brown’s website reads, “What’s that? A wild titty appears! Good thing this bra can capture them!”
Brown’s products generate a solid flow of cash. Since her shop’s rebrand last year, Brown has made $500 selling her handmade items online, and she believes anybody can succeed the way she has, if they use a little creativity. 
“If you find yourself with a lot of free time and you like to do artwork, absolutely pursue it.”