When I get sick
of doing this job, it always makes me feel better to think back on the jobs I
lucked out on and didn't get.
One was a job at
Northwest Orient airlines, which I applied for in the late '70s. I thought not
only "Orient" but even "Northwest" sounded glamorous, and I liked being in
planes. I applied for a ticket sales job, thinking I could work my way up to
being a "flyboy." However, since I wasn't a pilot or navigator, that would
obviously translate to becoming a steward.
It dawned on me
that if all you do is spend time in planes as a steward you might get tired of
it. Twenty years in-flight and I'd become cynical about the whole flying and
service experience. At some point I'd probably begin nipping at the tiny
airline liquor bottles.
ME: How about
some peanuts. (Tosses a bag at the
passenger.)
PASSENGER: I'm
not sure I want any (handing the bag back).
ME: Take 'em or
don't take 'em, I don't give a s---.
If passengers
complained about the food, I'd snarl, "What are you gonna do, walk out?" While
demonstrating emergency exit procedures and how to inflate life jackets, I'd
make remarks like, "Yeah, let the charade begin," or "Like this is gonna make
any difference." Because of union protection, I wouldn't get fired but would
end up riding in the baggage hold along with the cats and dogs in their
carriers. That would be that career.
Another job I
applied for was at an insurance company, going so far as to take an aptitude
test. The test showed I had no aptitude at all, which is good. You know people
who don't take "no" for an answer? I take "no" for an answer and always have.
Most times I walk away relieved.
If I had gotten
the job, I believe that after several years I'd have acquired a bad insurance
attitude.
ME (to phone prospect): How about some
insurance. I got auto, I got home, I got a special on fire.
PROSPECT: I
really can't afford it. I just got laid off, I've got car and medical payments
and-
ME: Yeah, I
know, I know, spare me the song and dance. Cheap bastard. (Hangs up. To a co-worker:) Hey, Dave, it's buck-a-shot happy hour
at the Lion's Den. I'll tell Buttface we're going on a call and we can shake
our booties on over there.
One job I
actually held, but only lasted 45 minutes at, was advertising copywriting. My
first assignment was to write a brochure for Thistledown race track. After
several minutes of staring at the materials I was given, I walked into the
boss's office and told him I had to leave. I would have been asked to leave
anyway as soon as he saw what I would have come up with.
"If you like
horses and gambling your money away, then Thistledown is for you. Thistledown
has plenty of horses racing around, and ‘you can bet on that.' Bring plenty of
money. Maybe you can double or triple it and ‘that ain't hay.' Look in the
phone book for the address and the phone number if you want more information."
Maybe the boss
would have been dumb and given me another chance, and I would have become
competent enough at copywriting to stay employed. But it seems to me that after
several years I'd just be going through the motions with that, too.
ME (during client presentation): Then we
show the horse racing with the jockey on top of him, the jockey waves at the
camera, we cut to the logo and boom, that's it.
CLIENT: That
doesn't seem very imaginative.
ME: No, it
doesn't, but I don't feel like working on it anymore.
No, I've got a
good job.
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Quirkee Voices 
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