Serendipity
What I don’t want to be when I grow up
Last weekend, for the first time in my life, I had a facial. Not the mud-mask, facial-scrub kind, but the prick-poke-and-pick-at-your-black-and-whitehead kind of facial. As the skin / facial specialist was ruthlessly digging out a stubborn blackhead while I was squirming like a lowly germ on a Petri dish with tears falling down from my eyes from the pain; I had a thought: there are just some jobs in this world that I ain’t gonna do. And obliterating blackheads is one of them. I think you have to have a cast-iron stomach, be completely brutal and sadistic to be able to survive a day in a facial clinic, right? Since I only have the last two qualities, I guess I’m not really equipped to handle such a job. And so, just for the record (and if there are any headhunters out there planning to recruit me – as if!), here’s my tongue-in-cheek list of some jobs that I’m not capable of doing or, what I don’t want to be when I grow up:
I don’t want to be a…
Mortician
Dead people make me queasy. I’m not exactly scared of them but I’m not too fond of them either. I manage events and parties, but please don’t make me manage funerals. However, if the owner of the funeral home looks like Peter Krause a.k.a. Nate Fisher of Six Feet Under, then maybe, just maybe, I might reconsider.
Call Center Agent
A bouquet of Roses: $55. A high-tech PC: $779. To be cursed and cussed on the phone with an obscene, four-letter expletive by a customer who thinks your accent is funny: Priceless. If distorting your body clock won’t kill you, then angry invectives from customers across the globe probably will. I only see one benefit in working at Call Centers: you won’t have to deal with jet lag if you plan to move to New York.
Dominatrix
My husband thinks otherwise, but I know I’ll suck (for lack of a better word) at this job. I used to think dominatrixes (or dominatrices – your choice, but they only mean one thing: girls who can whip men silly) are urban legends, but I met one when I was in New York in the West Village. I was hanging out with my cousin, Coleen, who was a vocalist of a band named Quasilulu and she had a bandmate whose girlfriend was a dominatrix. For the first time in my life I was tongue-tied. But I really wanted to ask her what her accoutrement of choice was: leather, chain, hand-cuffs, metal clamps, catheter (do you actually want me to go on?) or the average, run of the mill whip? I know I have a tendency to be domineering but I actually flunked when I took the 'Could You Be A Good Dominatrix Test?' once in the net (the things I do during my spare time). I think I got 33 % for dominance and 31% for technique – which, according to the genius who concocted the test, made me a 'Sweet Vanilla' – whatever that means. Also, S&M is not really my cup of tea. However, the idea of men begging to worship me is quite appealing. But tripping over them while they’re lying prone at my feet is not – especially if I’m wearing spiked stilettos. Ouch!
School Principal
I’m much too lenient for this job. I’ll probably give the school kids two hours of recess or something. I also have a tendency to be overly-generous. I had a short teaching stint a few years back and aside from giving passing grades to undeserving (meaning bulakbol) students because I pitied their parents who probably sold a carabao just to send them to school, I also lent money to some who were eager to learn but couldn’t pay for their tuition. I think I could buy a carabao or two with the money those students still owe me. Oh well, at least I’ll get good grades in heaven.
Nanny
I know I have two kids, but my maternal instincts only apply to my own children. I find it weird to take care of other people’s kids. I also don’t have a lot of patience especially with obnoxious children and I could get really mean and nasty with mean and nasty kids. Mothers, beware!
Bank Teller
My dream is to deposit millions in the bank, not count other people’s money. I don’t want to be the object of loathing either, especially on a Monday morning (when most bank transactions are usually made and when people silently curse slow tellers). No offense to some really nice bank tellers but there are those that make my blood boil. Some gossip in between transactions, and some act like egomaniacs (they seem to think people are lining up to ask for their autographs). Besides, I don’t want to have a job where money is the main business. As what a passage in the bible says: 'Money is the root of all evil'. Wait, did I use that one in the right context?
Dog-walker
I cannot be like J. Lo in Monster-in-Law – nope, not even if there’s a Michael Vartan look-a-like at stake. I hate dogs especially the small, hairless ones that look like they got scalded (I call them rat dogs). If truth be told, I did attempt to cure my fear of canines by getting myself one three years ago. But instead of getting a playful dog like a Beagle or a really huggable one like a St. Bernard, I got myself a Pit Bull. Smart.
And the list could go on and on: embalmer, WWF female wrestler, zoo keeper, skyscraper window cleaner, snake charmer, Osama Bin Laden’s personal assistant, etc. I could still enumerate more jobs here (I wanted to put “boob job” but that’s not really a real job, right?), but I know that I’ll triple the number of hate mails I’ll be getting if I add some more to my list. Let me just end with a quote from Bill Watterson, the writer of the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. He said, 'A real job is a job you hate.' Does this mean that if you don’t hate your job, it’s not a real job? So, what am I doing? Playing?