The Perfect Job For MeMarch 4, 2010
I was on the WordPress forum the other day. Well, I’m on it most days to be honest. This, and trawling cheap shops for strange things to take photos of on my crappy camera phone for the benefit of you, dear reader, proves I really need to get out more. One of the forum topics was asking for people to reveal their dream job. I put my tuppence worth of course and in the process realised I had taken what I see as an everyday event for granted. I’m now using it to create this post, for your viewing pleasure.
Something happens to me. It happens so often I find myself wondering what’s wrong when it doesn’t happen. I get stopped at airports. All the time. It doesn’t matter who I’m with, or not, I’m the one that gets pulled over. There must be something about my face. I don’t know what it is, but I do know in the scale of ugliness it’s nowhere near the ‘face that’s suitable for radio,’ or ‘the face only a mother could love.’ Still, I get stopped with ridiculous frequency, considering the infrequency of my flying experience and the lack of air miles. It was the response of another blogger to the dream job question that set me thinking: I really should consider turning my misfortune into fortune. You get handed lemons, you make lemonade. There are books lining the burgeoning self improvement shelves that urge you to find what you were always meant to do so you live a happy, fulfilled life. Apparently, it’s usually right in front of you, but you’re too blind to see it. What the hell have I been doing working as a graphic designer/artworker/mac monkey (delete as applicable) all these years when I could’ve been doing this? So here’s what I think could be the perfect job for me: an airport security mystery shopper. That’s right. I’m the perfect candidate to be a tester for the efficacy of security at airports around the world. I know this is a job at which I would excel, because it’s a natural gift. It was pointed out on the forum that a person could smuggle anything on a plane if they’re determined enough and they know the weak spots. That let the air out of my dream balloon a little, but I am not to be deterred. This is what I was born to do and I will fulfill my destiny, damnit.
So now you tell me: what is your dream job?