Thursday, December 2, 2004

Are you in the mood for a fun game today, gentle reader? Even if you weren’t, it really wouldn’t matter because all questions tend to become rhetorical here. We’ll name our game “One-Line Existence,” a pithy title for a race to reduce your current calling, your occupation du jour, into a single, dismissive line. Think of it as an anti-resume.

Perhaps a little explanation is in order. If anyone were to win this game, and I mean continually win, it would be yours truly. Most people I meet–including friends, family, complete strangers–respond to my job with one of two replies.

“Oh, you’re one of those people,” goes the first response. This is usually accompanied by a chuckle or a look reserved for Special Olympics cheaters.

The second reply: “Spam.” On rare occasions, the verdict comes with an implicit demand that I wish, beg, I were a delectable block of seasoned meat rather than an advertiser.

Am I irreparably broken? Do I spend sleepless nights pondering my personal worth? Of course not. For an evening, though, let’s forget the cardinal rule of “judge not lest ye be judged” and play the game to the hilt. Prove your existence!

Advertising = spam

Marketing = advertising

Student = dumb and poor

Police = donut

Law student = aimless (I honestly heard this from someone who, in all likelihood, had to justify “studying the earth” on a regular basis.)

Fireperson = pole

Musician = covers

Teacher = daycare

Daycare = snack time

Artist = starving

Neurosurgeon = what?

Consultant = die by 30

Journalist = nosey

Programmer = fat and blind

Researcher = just give up

If you’re ever subjected to this game, unwittingly so, think of it as a celebration of your roots instead of patronization. We’ve all got to start somewhere, right? Brad Pitt, for instance, donned a chicken suit in the days before fame struck him mercilessly. Quentin Tarantino? He worked the counter at a video store. What about you and me? Let the games begin.