Oddly Enough Blog
News, but not the serious kind
Ten jobs you’ll avoid if you’re smart
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A reader writes, “Bob, I’m looking for a career, but I get bored reading all the fine print in online job postings. Are there any shortcuts?”
Well sure. What you do is set up a filter so that job descriptions containing certain words or phrases just don’t show up at all, thus freeing up much more of your time for watching “Starsky and Hutch” reruns. The trick is to block just the right stuff, so use my list, which is based on years of career advice.
10. OSAMA BIN LADEN: If a job involves going around looking like that guy, whether it’s for kids’ birthdays, mall openings or whatever, you don’t want it. I’ll admit he’s lived a lot longer than I expected, but one of these days he’s going to order a Big Gulp at the wrong 7-Eleven, and you don’t want to be there when it happens.
9. OF DEATH: Don’t work anyplace that has the phrase “Of Death” in the title, whether it’s the “Thrill Ride Of Death,” or just the “Frozen Yogurt Stand Of Death.”
8. HOMEMADE SUBMARINES: Jeez, a moron should be able to see this one coming. Homemade pies are good, homemade submersibles are bad. If you want to go around in a homemade vehicle, build a Go Kart.
7. SCOTCH TAPE, CROCODILES, MAGNETS: Yes, you read that correctly. Amazingly, this is a growing field for young people, but don’t get taken in.
6. FIREWORKS: You don’t want to make them, light them or haul them, and you damn sure don’t want folks throwing them at you. Gosh, there are just some things I shouldn’t have to spell out.
5. CHECKING MILITARY STUFF: The Army likes to assign folks to look down gun barrels, into rocket exhausts and what not. Do the math. Even a 98 percent success rate isn’t good enough.
4. YOUR MOUTH: Most of the time if somebody wants you to put something in your mouth, it shouldn’t be going in there. And yes, before you ask, this includes live tree frogs.
3. SNAKES: There are lots of bad snake jobs out there, and VERY few good ones. You especially want to avoid job descriptions that combine SNAKES and YOUR MOUTH.
2. HUMOR BLOGGING: Oh, the brochures are glossy and they make it sound SO neat. But the uniform sucks, the food is awful and classy bars don’t REALLY let humor bloggers drink for free. Oh, and have you noticed I work seven days a week? Is that even LEGAL?
1. BULLFIGHTING: I’ve written lots about this, so don’t even ask. Ignore all those job ads that start out, “Work with animals, enjoy the outdoors.” These guys dress like Teletubbies, they torture noble beasts to death in public, and even humor bloggers can afford to look down on them. Olé my big butt!
Well, there you have it. Of course as always, you should ignore this advice if you majored in creative writing or film studies. In that case, these may be just the right jobs for you.
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Bullfighters and other folks with bad jobs, REUTERS photos
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The “of deaths” are a no brainer… but the “of dooms” are not so bad. Take what I do for example. Bank teller of doom. It kinda has a ring to it.
That Snake in Mouth job did me in… how do you make a dead face here?
After quite some time, this blog actually sounds like a blog.
Yeah, before it sounded like a Tuba….
You should really look out for job titles that involve the word “assistant” as well. No one wants to be Dracula’s Assistant, or Dr. Frankenstein’s assistant, or Joan Rivers’ assistant.
You might also want to avoid any position where the interviewer asks if you’re a donor…
Number 11. Realtor
Hey, Pilot, I knew a bank teller from hell, but never a bank teller of doom.
Jees. I’m sure you are a very good serious journalist Bob but the stuff you pump out these days is some of the unfunniest material I’ve seen on the Web.
The Onion, it ain’t.
What about normal jobs you do not want.
Nurse’s aide unless it is private duty,cleaning jobs unless you work for yourself, fast food or slow restaurants and bars without good tips,door greeter at wallmart etc.
I’ve noticed you work 7 days a week Bob, and whilst I’m grateful, I’m afraid I can’t help you on the legality thereof. Over here, we have a little thing called the “European Working Hours Directive” which theoretically limits you to a 40 hour week; in my last job you had to sign an exemption before they gave you a contract, and there’s a whole load of industries it doesn’t apply to, including my new job.
How about manager of the Chicago Cubs?
thanks for making me smile
@T54, it’s actually just one promotion away from being a bank teller from hell.
@SpanishBill, unfunniest stuff these days? You mean Mr. B. used to have funny material at some point?
I work 40 hr weeks….
Robert, I believe the humour blogging business is very unappreciated these days, so you have my full solidarity. I mean, consultancy bears some of the same characteristics, so I guess it’s all in fellow tradesman solidarity.
I’m with SpanishBill here. This stuff is some of the worst space filler I’ve ever seen.
Boo to both Spanish Bill and the other guy whose comment i can see on the Front page but not on the blog….
This is a blog, not an editorial. So SpanishBill and JoStar, don’t just wax critical and be all poopy and junk. Say something funny. And make it good.
SpanishBill and JoStar? Still waiting. The least you could do is comment that designer fashions are serious art. That’s always good for at least a snicker hereabouts.
Hey, how about a joke. Let me get you started:
“SpanishBill, JoStar, a priest, a rabbi, and witchdoctor go into a bar and….”
“…the bartender says ‘….
Thanks, Doc, but now, now… Everybody is welcome here, and let’s be thankful we don’t live in one of those countries where reading my blog is mandatory.
“…What is this? Some kind of a joke?’”
What some readers of this fine blog don’t realize is that we’re all Bozos on this bus.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Think_We' re_All_Bozos_on_This_Bus
Gee Baz, I unfortunately live in one of those countries where it’s mandatory to read your Blog. It’s no so bad as long as I have the meds handy.
I just don’t understand any poopy-faced sour-puss who doesn’t find humor in your writing. What are they, satire critics? Maybe that should become #11 on your “bad jobs” list.
Thanks, Dave.
Yeah, it’s weird. I’ve been scratching my head trying to figure out why somebody who calls himself Spanish Bill might not see in humor in a blog that lists bullfighting as the worst job on earth. I’m sure there’s some connection there, I just can’t quite focus on it.
Poopy faced sour puss… thanks Dave… Am gonna add that to the list of names I want to call someone…
Speaking of bozos on a bus, I’m on a freight train to Crazy Town. Who’s with me?
E.
me me!! Pick me!!!
The Complaint Manager on this Blog is Helen Waite.
If you have a complaint, go to Helen Waite.
Hel-en wa-i-te?
And the contact person for Lost and Found is Helen Hunt.
Is that a complaint MS Shra?
I was wondering what happened to Helen Hunt. She won an Oscar and an Emmy and disappeared.
Plenty of room guys! Hop on! Drinks on board with plenty of rest stops along the way.
Crazy Town here we come!!
E.
What is it The Redneck Mommy says on her FB page? “Twirling the pom poms in her own freak parade!”
We need to save room on the bus for TRM!
She’s actually a blog-distance friend of mine. There’s always room for TRM on our train….
Drivin’ down the street
in the Crazy Town Express.
Crowgirl is a raven
With a thigh rig holster.
She lays low her mark.
And tall Shra plays the part
wearin’ her spike heels.
But I’m all right, and I don’t care.
Maybe someday I’ll be a psychiatrist,
Or I guess I am already one.
Drivin’ down the street
in the Crazy Town Express.
Mr. Pilot flies while
Unca DIs and dices.
And Doctor Doll rolls
his glass in his jangled hands.
He’s a holy roller.
But I’m all right, and I don’t care.
Maybe someday I’ll be a psychiatrist,
Or I guess I am already one.
It was through you that I found her page.
I think I’m going to start a band, Unca. Perhaps I ‘ll call it “The Fiber-Optic Jesuses.” Or “The Peace Vandals.” These lines can be lyrics.
Do you have a vacancy for a kazoo player?
I’m thinking along the lines of a New Age group, with a drone bass. Can you play a drone kazoo? A drone Jews harp? A Jews harp in a group called the Fiber-Optic Jesuses? What inspiration, Unca! You’re in. You inspired me to write some new lyrics, which follow immediately:
“Maybe”
Maybe someday
I’ll be a psychiatrist.
But I’m already
A movie star.
Maybe I don’t
Get inside people’s heads, like
Bob, but I’m better
Looking, eh? (Refrain)
Maybe I’m not
A well-paid “blogger” like
Bob, but I can
Play the part.
(Refrain)
Perhaps what you need is a tambourine backing group then, Doc.
Okay. Maybe not New Age. Definitely not New Age. I’m in airports too much the way it is now. Now I’m thinking the Blues:
Ain’t nobody here,
Not even a deer,
Just sippin’ on beer.
Got them OE blues.