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WHY ARE ALL THE GOOD JOBS ALREADY TAKEN? Honorable Mention By Sarah Newsom Ocean Springs MS Every time I think about making a career change now that I’m 60+, I get a bit discouraged. It seems as if all the good jobs are already taken. I know the ABC’s every bit as well as Vanna, but I’m sure they’ll just let her keep on turning them ‘til she’s 60+. In all honesty, I realize that I would not be able to wear some of those cute little outfits she wears. I doubt if they come in one-size-fits-all. I probably know just about as many words as Stephen King does ( except for the ones he coins like thumbectomy ) so I suppose I can’t become a best-selling novelist. For unknown reasons, I just can’t seem to put them together in the right sequence. That man can write a novel and it’s been made into a movie before I’ve had time to finish reading it. He must work late. I can talk so I’ve considered being a late-night talk show hostess. The problem with this, however, is that I fall asleep by 9:30 p.m. Like Oprah, I was born in Kosciusko, Mississippi, but I suppose there is a rule or something about having only one superstar per hometown. Looks like a career as a television personality is out of the question. I guess my expectations are too high. I want my next career to be easy and stress free. I want to go in late, leave early and make lots of money. That pretty much eliminates owning my own business, spying, or racecar driving. I can’t become a fisherman because I’m terrified of the sea. I can’t become an astronaut because I’m afraid to fly. I can’t go the political route because I can’t lie well enough. Anything in the medical profession is out of the question because all they get to see are sick people and there might be blood involved. I really would like to play golf every Thursday afternoon as they tend to do. I have given considerable thought to becoming a meteorologist since they work only five or six minutes a day on the 6 o’clock and 10 o’clock news, but I had to let that one go. Whenever Mike Reader talks about tropical depressions and such, I head north. I hung around Biloxi for Camille all those years ago and that was quite enough, thank you. Farming wouldn’t be bad. They are their own bosses, get to ride around in pickup trucks and grow their own food. But then I can’t chew tobacco, drive a tractor or a mule and most farmers seem to be men. I don’t even own a straw hat or overalls. I’d have to shop for a new wardrobe. The farmers I interviewed said that their hours were from sunup to sundown. That’s almost as long a day as a mother puts in raising a family. I’ve already done that. No challenge. I immediately crossed out any beauty related or modeling career because I’ve earned every gray hair and wrinkle and I do not want them tampered with. Any job that requires computer knowledge was also not seriously considered. I am intimidated by any machine that is smarter than I am. I have long since given up on trying to figure out how to use a VCR, and the microwave ( given to me by my children for Mother’s Day one year so that I could hurry up and get food on their plates ) is used only to heat water. I wish more people would be as honest as am and admit that the hand-held can opener is the last invention they really understand. Horse racing appears to be a nice, healthy, outdoorsy activity, But I am too fat to be a jockey and too poor to be a gambler. Scratch that. Sigh. I can’t sing, dance, or twirl a baton so the world of entertainment must struggle along without me. Once I tried my hand at song writing, but Willie Nelson couldn’t be reached. Guess he was on the road again. Women mud wrestlers fascinate me as do roller derby gals, but I no longer have the stamina for either. The same goes for aerobics instructors. I had my fill of being a short order cook by raising three boys who ate like lumberjacks so I don’t care to work in the restaurant industry. If my kids had tipped me adequately over the years, I could retire and not worry about a career change. Since I can’t balance my own checkbook, I realize that a job with a financial institution is out of the question. I can’t be a dentist’s chairside assistant because I need a long sniff of nitrous oxide just to call for a dental appointment. Miners have to go underground and workers for the electric company have to climb poles. Cowboys have to ride horses and have fist fights in saloons and walk bowlegged. I can do none of those things. If you’ve read the help wanted ads lately, you’ve noticed the words experience required. Even jobs such as bobcat operators, OTR drivers, and airframe and plant mechanics require experience. I don’t even understand what these people do. Does a bobcat operator operate on bobcats? Is that a veterinarian specialty? I’m discouraged. Things have just become too complex for me. All the good jobs are already taken or I don’t have the experience. Barbara Walters will keep on interviewing interesting people. Peter Jennings will continue to bring us the news. It’s doubtful that President Bush will step down on my account and so it goes. Guess I’ll just keep on looking. If you hear of something that has short hours, a huge salary and requires no special skills or talents, please give me a call. The number is 1-800-I AM-LAZY.
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