Nice Work, If You Can Get It

Champagne wishes and caviar dreams...

Something I’ve observed over the years. No matter how much we enjoy our chosen profession, we always think there is something better out there. Shiny, silver and just beyond our grasp.

I was a life-long working journalist. Foreign correspondent, editor, blogger, columnist. I always went to work with a smile on my face. But I never stopped dreaming of one day getting more money for doing less work.

It’s difficult for me to change jobs now, largely because I’m no longer even working. But I did recently come across a new profession that is so exciting it just may lure me back into the work force.

Before I get to this amazing new opportunity, I’m going to share some of my other career ideas, the result of a lifetime of research. I can’t emphasize enough how much careful thought has gone into these.

First up is fighter pilot on an aircraft carrier. I know, you’re saying, “Wtf, Bob! You know how long you have to train to be a pilot?”

Yes, it does take a few weeks of training. I don’t deny that. But once you have the job, it’s all gravy, as long as there’s an aircraft carrier around. I mean, you’re flying a plane that happens to live on a boat! They don’t make you swab the deck or cook or anything, because you’re a pilot!

(This could be you!)

You get out of bed in the morning around 10 o’clock, go to the mess hall for a cheddar omelet, hash browns and a couple of Bloody Marys. Then you suit up, climb into that little seat with all the gauges and dials, and take off.

You don’t even need to look at a map. You’re on a long, narrow deck, so it isn’t like you’re going to get lost or anything.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, you land back on the deck and taxi to wherever some dude in a camouflage jumpsuit tells you to park your fighter jet. You’re finished. They don’t want to see you again until tomorrow.

The rest of the day, you just browse the carrier’s gift shop, call Grandma in Oshkosh and watch “Huckleberry Hound” reruns on the ship’s closed-circuit TV system.

Oh. You hate flying? Then, how about a job in show business? Wait for it: playing the part of the bad guy’s attorney during police questioning!

Hear me out. We’ve all seen the police procedurals on Britbox. The cramped interrogation room always has four people in it:

The brash, wise-cracking young detective.

His prim, repressed, by-the-book blond partner.

The snarling mad-dog-crazy murder suspect, chained to a chair.

Finally, there’s you, the suspect’s lawyer. Those other three actors have lines to memorize and a wide range of emotions to show. They do all the work!

What do you have to do as the lawyer? You scribble some notes, look exasperated now and then, give the stink-eye to the detectives, and that’s it. After about ten minutes of questioning, you stand up and say, with consummate disgust, “Okay, my client is finished here!”

Think about it. “Okay, my client is finished here!” You can probably memorize that line in less than an hour, and it never even changes from show to show!

If the show biz life doesn’t tempt you, how about becoming a remittance man?

(Also you)

You probably think that’s the guy who gives you your change in the toll booth at the parking garage, but no. Check out the Wikipedia definition of remittance man:

An unwanted or underachieving man, or occasionally a youngest son, sent by relatives to a distant land and sent regular remittances of upkeep money, in order that he does not come back.

I’m not making this up, folks. Your only job is to leave and not come back home! This was a much more common profession back in the 19^th century, but it’s still around. If you don’t believe me, check out the song, “Remittance Man,” by the late Jimmy Buffet:

Remittance Man
Black sheep of the family clan
Broke too many rules along the way
Remittance Man

I first heard about this job when I lived in Santa Fe, because as a remote and quirky place, it was a popular destination for remittance men back in the 19^th century.

How much does it pay? Well, how embarrassing can you be? How much do Mom and Dad not want you to show up for Christmas? That’s how much it pays.

Personally, I know I could be a legendary remittance man. I can picture my family gathered around the holiday table, and I can hear Dad’s toast:

“We’re all thankful to be gathered here without Bob. Darling, let’s send him some more money, just to be sure. And did you change the locks?”

There is one very slight catch. You do need to have rich relatives. If your family doesn’t have a mansion in Mayfair or Knightsbridge for you to stay away from, you don’t need to bookmark this story.

Now. If none of these jobs is for you, then here’s the brand-new field I promised. You won’t even believe it.

I picked up my local newspaper recently and was captivated by this headline: Tourist burglars target affluent suburbs…

Tourist burglars?

Let me explain, because this one was new to me, as well.

The story told about a crime in which burglars made off with jewelry, Louis Vuitton bags, etc. A quarter of a million dollars’ worth of high-end loot, part of a spate of recent thefts targeting wealthy estates.

Here is the amazing bit. Authorities said the crimes were part of a global phenomenon involving so-called "crime tourists" or "tourist burglars."

Here’s how it works. Professional burglars from foreign countries come to the United States, and then they travel around, targeting upscale communities, and then they go home.

Of course, it’s only fair that crime tourists from The States get to go abroad, too, so that’s where we come in. Look at it as a foreign exchange program.

Just think of it. You get to travel, visit mansions and see how the super-rich live. How did that guy used to put it on that TV show? “Champagne wishes and caviar dreams."

After all, nobody is paying the tourist burglars to go rob poor people.

(Could this be you?)

Personally, I’m picturing myself as Cary Grant, in “To Catch a Thief.” You kind of like Arsène Lupin? Knock yourself out.

The police say this is a growing field. You can get in on the ground floor!

Anyway, start working on your resume. I’m asking around to see where we should send them, so keep checking back here.

Au revoir, for now, mes amis. I’ll be seeing you on a rooftop in the French Riviera.

I’ll be the one wearing a “5 a.m. Stories” hoodie.