JOBS FOR THE JOLLY-MINDED
Or, Oxymoron Occupations For the Faint of Heart
By Theolonius McTavish, a certified four-leaf clover grower, a vicarious fast-living/slow-eating consultant, and babbling Blarney-kissing protocol advisor from across the pond (who simply adores jumping into his SuperStud spandex bodysuit on the least little whim)
Scrolling through my on-line source of stuff and nonsense (masquerading as “headline” news), something caught the corner of my eye, or perhaps it gently poked me in the pupil.
It turned out to be an advertisement for a hope-inspired-pessimistically-inclined pioneer to voyage to places that haven't been found yet. Not being a person of the cloth (loin or otherwise), nor a metaphysical muse (the dearly departed don’t ring my charms), I decided to investigate further.
The job description looked incredibly simple even for a passively confrontational, user-friendly, Windows-XP-man like me.
“Cheerful pessimist, controlled skeptic, organized anarchist or pious atheist required. No questions asked, and no qualifications or experience necessary. Must be willing to explore extinct or new life forms, have fun, and anticipate the unanticipated all alone. Apply to: The Institute of Outer Orbit Phenomena, P.O. Box 500, Grosse Tete, Louisiana, Toll-Free 1-800-R-U-4-REAL”.
Needless to say, I realized this was a random-moment smart-move opportunity that I couldn’t possibly resist. The charming synthesized voice on the other end of an awkwardly designed phone-tree maze told me I should listen to the recorded message for all job openings ...before pressing the escape button. (Since I had no escape button on my blinking analogue phone, I had only one option (and that did not include collecting $200 as I passed “go” or picking up a handy ‘Get Out Of Jail Free” card.)
So, I cranked up the volume on my stereo, grabbed myself a package of high-fibre, low-calorie cigarettes, and sat down with my high-octane cup of caffeine-less coffee and listened with guarded optimism to the poignant pre-precorded announcements:
“The following is a list of our current openings. If you’re interested in applying, write down the job name/number, wait until the end of this message menu, and then press 999 for an operator. May you enjoy this delightful, dazzling digital encounter?
2041.123 Relative Truth & Consequences Analyst
2042.456 Systematic Variance in Performance Outcomes Architect
2043.789 Slightly-Used Dental Floss Sales Associate
2044.123 Fictional Fact-Finder – Level II
2045.456 Meaningful Oversight Process Engineer
2046.789 Negative Momentum De-Icing Specialist
2047.345 Extreme Stationery Bike Riding & High-Performance Sport Training Consultant
2048.432 Silent Testimony Translator/Transcriber
2049.123 Unspoken Suggestion Box Designer
2050.987 Politically-Correct Wordless Book Editor & Publisher
2051.789 Controlled Chaos Coordinator
2052.876 Reckless Caution Speed Bump Civil Engineer
2053.456 Certified Safe Segway & Scooter Driving Instructor
2054.234 Paint-By-Number Art & Liberal Life Skills Instructor (for Resident Aliens, Non-Registered Extra-Terrestrials, & Living Fossils)
2055.123 Custom-Made, Craft-Brewed, Virtually-Reality-Designer-Beer Formulator
2056.987 Wrap-Around, Silent Sound Technician
Needless to say, my pencil broke, my half-baked bean beverage spilled all over my pants, and thankfully a nutty neighbor dropped by to inquire about my health.
All of which goes to show that life on the other side isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, unless of course you fancy an oxymoron career with oodles of opportunity to jump into a sparkly spandex body suit and a one-size-fits all spacecraft for a honking good time ...just like the ad says.
For more magnificient oxymorons for your reading enjoyment, drop by http://www.oxymoronlist.com