Life coach.  I like the idea of telling people what they should do in order to live fulfilling lives.  “Focus on this.  Prioritize that. What do you feel? What do you want?  Do this, do that.  Time’s up, now pay me.” And I like the idea of not having to dress up for work, but simply wear a white robe all day. I do not know if life coaches actually wear them, but it seems to me that if your job title is “life coach” then you can get away with just wearing a white robe.

The problem is, in order to be a life coach you have to believe that you have perfected your own life. And that means that a life coach thinks that the absolute perfect life is to be a life coach. Why else would they be a life coach? They clearly have coached themselves into being life coaches. And I don’t like that idea.  You basically have to tell all of your clients, “You should be a life coach.” And then what if they are better than me and I lose all my customers?  I can see how being a life coach would be a bad deal.

Traffic helicopter radio guy. I have let my local KQED station wake me up for years, and in all that time, Joe McConnell has been the soft-spoken traffic guy who tells me what the commute is like. It seems like a fun job: every morning you rise above it all, say a few words on air, and then go home and take an early afternoon nap.

Sometimes Joe is busy analyzing freeway patterns or picking his nose or something, and he doesn’t always come on when he’s supposed to, and the KQED guy says “Joe? Joe?  Well, we’ll check in with Joe in just a few moments.” And Joe always comes back eventually, but I worry about him. What if another helicopter from a rival station has rammed him, causing him to crash and explode in a fiery ball of flame?  That’s really kind of the problem with being a traffic helicopter radio guy: there’s no one to report on crowded conditions in the air. “Well, we have a mid-air collision right above the Golden Gate; looks like the chick from the lite rock station decided to take out Joe once and for all. We advise an alternate flight path if you’re reporting on traffic today.”

Roadie for Nickelback.  I’d like to be a roadie for the band and become one of their inner circle. And then, when they’re rehearsing “Rock Star” and feeling relaxed and happy, I’ll climb up to the catwalk and cut loose the restraints and let an enormous amplifier tip over and squash them like bugs. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to let Nickelback become a real band? Those guys suck.