If you can’t bring yourself to walk into work today, here’s a collection of jobs that might fit your reckless impulse.
Did the familiar buzz of this morning’s alarm shake you from the picturesque perfection of that half-remembered dream with what’s-their-name from years gone back, the landscape of your subconscious torn down by the pale fact that another work day awaits, like the snarling, life-sapping octopus it frequently is?
Another eight hours that won’t be returned to you; eight hours before you return to bed; eight hours spent chasing around management, fighting to the death over the tenuous toehold that you’ve carved into that nameless building that keeps you.
Well, only 33 more years to go.
But don’t throw yourself into the arms of whoever-from-accounts, or under your morning train, because there is hope. There is escape, as hope undoes your trousers in the form of a job more suitable. You just need to find something that rewards your vast inadequacies; somewhere where you fit. A rut with a you-shaped hole in it.
With that in mind, we’ve tabulated a list of some of the more obscure jobs available in 2016, sorted in order of personality “quirk.” Saying that, if you need a reference for any of the jobs below, I’m unwilling to help. A change is as good as a holiday, but keep in mind some of these are more a week spent in Aleppo than Aruba.
Responsibilities: Turning up to funerals of strangers and adding gravitas to lives that you had no idea existed.
Would suit: The needlessly dramatic, those who look good in black, those suffering from chronic ennui.
Hours: Two, four max, pending length of the service.
Perks: Free food, possibility of grief-enabled sexual congress.
Chance for promotion: Nil, but for those who mourn hardest is a sort-of management position.
Responsibilities: Not a sexual subculture as the name alludes to, the Wrinkle Chaser removes the creases from newly constructed shoes.
Would suit: Foot fetishists, those with high range OCD.
Hours: Long, but the time would be carved into an evenly-dispersed timetable.
Perks: Mindfulness, the chance to control your environment.
Chance for promotion: It’s more of a lifestyle than a job.
Responsibilities: Testing water slides, water slides that may be unsuitable for the human body to endure.
Would suit: Those who are 13 going on 30, dolphins.
Hours: As much as your luck rides, or how much sunburn one can endure.
Perks: You get to live that dream you once knew for those twelve seconds at Wet ’n’ Wild in 1996.
Chance for promotion: Strange one. You’d have to show an idiot-savant knowledge of engineering. Enough to not die, but not enough to get promoted, as you’d surely be tasked to design them, which means you’d have to hang up the boardies.
Vomit Cleaner/Deodorant Tester/Pet Food Tester
Responsibilities: Otherwise known as the Janitor, the Guinea Pig, and the Labrador (which sounds like a Sergio Leone movie for children), the main responsibility for all three is losing all dignity in yourself and thumbing your nose at the million years of evolutionary process.
Would suit: Those in pursuit of a constant sensory kick, or those who gave up on life.
Hours: What do you care? If you do these jobs, it’s safe to assume that you’ve got little else on.
Perks: Meet people, maybe a dog.
Chance for promotion: Maybe, one day, if you work hard enough, someone will clean up your vomit.
Professional Line Stander/Professional Sleeper
Responsibilities: Reaching the front of a line, professionally; and being able to fall asleep on cue, professionally.
Would suit: Professionals. Narcoleptics.
Hours: Varies. Depends on the length of the line, or nap.
Perks: “Being outside” and sleep, glorious sleep.
Chance for promotion: None. And, like it or not, no matter the comfort of the surrounds, we still learn to hate our jobs as much as we love them—even our dream jobs (mind the pun). So, my concern is twofold: 1) You still have to get out of your bed to get to the one at work, and 2) would you start to dislike sleep because it feels like work? And what would you do on your days off—stay awake?
And finally, a quick spin of the globe brings us to Japan. The land of rules walking with thinly veiled ickiness hidden off the main streets of Tokyo. I love you Japan, but not like this. Let’s just be friends.
Professional Cuddler/Rental Boyfriend (Isn’t That Just an Escort?)
Responsibilities: Being an escort, evading police questioning when your “client” turns up dead.
Would suit: Serial killers, the lonely, sociopaths.
Hours: It’s a relationship, duh.
Perks: Paid to spoon, you get to be Joe Buck or Jo Bukuru.
Chance for promotion: Nil, but there’s a chance that you hook up with a street-wizened shyster, form a bond made through abject desolation, and not quite make to a new life in Okinawa.
There you are, you handsome devil.