It’s usually when the clock on my taskbar says something 13:50-ish that my mind begins to swim in daydreams of other pursuits worth losing time over, instead of me flattening my bum like a good corporate stooge, willing the same clock to fast forward to 18:00.
As if poring over mind-numbing error logs wasn’t torture enough, I frustrate myself further by thinking of other people who actually get PAID to do kick-ass fun stuff.
Exhibit A: The Travel Show Host — who wouldn’t want to be that girl who gets paid to show everyone else all the fun they’re missing?
Or how about the Professional Athlete — getting paid to play. TO PLAY!! The injustice of it all! (Kids, the next time your mom tells you to come in and bury yourself in books, Google the salary of the top-paid athletes, and tell her that she should be more supportive of the sporty dynamo within you that’s just waiting to be unleashed. It’s an investment.)
I know, not everyone is destined to be an A-list superstar. On the other hand, there are still some jobs that are more suited to us simple mortals, but are still nevertheless fun, fun, fun.
For instance: the movie board censor guy. Imagine if your day at work meant going over film after film after film, then stamping them as GP/PG/R/X. OMG indeed.
Or how about the Vimeo Staff Picks or WordPress’ Freshly Pressed people? (pausing for a second’s deep thought). Yup, confirmed — living ala-Mean Girls and getting to sort the cool from the nots is one of the coolest ways to earn a buck.
Or better yet, the Dictionary Definition Guy. There is someone out there who is paid to take a word apart and dictate to the rest of mankind how this word should be used. The power is intoxicating.
So at that split-second awkward moment when I realize I’m about to bawl in the middle of my dead-quiet office, I quickly recoil by thinking of worse jobs that I could find myself stuck in.
Like the baggage counter guy at Landmark. Yes, specifically Landmark, where they have a STEEL CAGE for your bags, and the unfortunate guy who gets stuck there has to resist the urge to strangle himself with your bag handle, before he dies out of sheer boredom.
Or the obnoxiously large mascot. If my day at work meant I had to profusely sweat inside a heavy be-decked glorified sauna suit, then it’s a good thing nobody can see my gnarled face. And don’t even get me started on the constant high-pitched kids’ squeals. For. The. Love. Of. God. Spare me.
And then just like that, the clock says 17:00. Just one more meeting, and I’ve survived another day. Repeat cycle.
How about you — what jobs would blow your mind, or would make your skin crawl?