Lately I’ve been thinking about the evil henchman Oddjob (one word) from the 1964 James Bond movie “Goldfinger,” who was played by American wrestler and actor Toshiyuki (Harold) Sakata (1920-1982).

Why? Because it’s a cheap and easy way for me to segue to more discussion about the odd jobs people do.

“But, Word Guy,” you protest, “it isn’t the jobs that are weird, it’s their names!”

You’re right. But I’ve wasted enough time trying (and failing) to come up with a good introduction to this week’s column, so let’s get right down to brass tacks about more odd names of some vocations (and maybe a few avocations), beginning with some you might encounter as part of a visit to an upscale dining establishment.

Let’s say this visit started with an invitation you received weeks ago in the mail. It was very nice and obviously involved the work of a calligrapher, an occupation that gets its name from the Greek word “kalli” or “beautiful.”

Upon arrival at the restaurant, you’re greeted by the boniface, or the establishment’s proprietor. His title can be traced back to the name of Mr. Boniface, who was an innkeeper in the 1707 play “The Beaux’ Stratagem” by George Farquhar.

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After being seated, you’re visited by the sommelier, or the wine steward, whose title is derived from (of all things) the Middle French word for a pack animal driver responsible for the transportation of supplies.

As you wait for your wine, note that much of the restaurant’s ambiance is thanks to candles provided by the local chandler.

The restaurant purchased the fresh fish you’re about to enjoy from the local fishmonger, the suffix of which denotes a dealer or trader in a specified commodity. And where did the fish seller get her inventory? Possibly she procured it from a weir keeper, or a person who tends a fence or enclosure set in a waterway for catching fish.

Knowing you, before this special meal you likely employed the services of a haberdasher — a dealer in men’s clothing and accessories. Obviously, you would have steered clear of the shop operated by the slop seller (from”slop,” a loose smock or overall), known for selling cheaply made clothing.

Having gone to all that trouble to get ready for the evening, you certainly wouldn’t want to be late. Alas, your majordomo (the head steward of a large household) has the day off and won’t be there to wake you from your nap. What to do? You could try to find a knocker up, or a person in Britain and other countries whose job during the Industrial Revolution was to go house to house and knock on the windows to wake workers up for their factory shift.

Upon returning home from your wonderful dining experience, you may be inclined to while away the remainder of the evening by engaging in one of your hobbies. Perhaps you’re an “arctophile,” or someone who collects teddy bears. The word gets its root from the Greek word “arktos” or “bear.”

Or maybe you enjoy doing crossword puzzles, in which case you would be a cruciverbalist, which comes to us by way of the Latin words “cruci” (cross) and “verbum” (word).

If, on the other hand, you’re into the study of flags (like Sheldon Cooper on “The Big Bang Theory”), that would make you a vexillologist, a word that owes its existence to the Latin word “vexillum,” meaning “square flag or banner.” If that’s your thing, I salute you.

Jim Witherell of Lewiston is a writer and lover of words whose work includes “L.L. Bean: The Man and His Company” and “Ed Muskie: Made in Maine.” He can be reached at jlwitherell19@gmail.com.

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