This may sound conceited, but I have a list of jobs I think I could do pretty well. I bump into scenarios at the grocery store, or the bank, or see things on a show that wakes something inside me—something suppressed by being a stay-at-home mom for the better part of a decade. And this thing, this astonishingly egocentric thought screams out for validation by declaring myself more capable and superior at a task than a person who has perhaps dropped thousands of dollars and spent years studying the very skill. Okay, so this sounds extremely conceited.
In my arrogance, I refuse to believe I am the only person with this kind of ego. Does no one else watch a Hallmark Christmas movie and think, I could do this. Someone hire me! Here, I shall write one for you in less than five minutes to prove my point.
Pan into a quaint little town where an unusually pretty shopkeeper sells specialty merchandise or services to a town that loves her questionably too much. Cut to a conversation with quirky friend/coworker where it is revealed that the shop used to belong to a deceased parent. Zoom in on shopkeeper’s face as she opens the mail and finds that her failing company is once again behind on mortgage payments and will be evicted on Christmas Eve. Cue seemingly duchy city-slicker, with impeccably tailored jawline, who is also down on his luck, and reluctantly decides to visit his high school stomping grounds. He bumps into the shopkeeper and basically annoys her during the most stressful moment of her life while she unexplainably overcomes baggage from a previous relationship and falls for the city-slicker, probably because of a reluctant, but well-timed kiss under the mistletoe. Together they find a way to save the store, but not before having a huge misunderstanding when she sees him hug his cousin, but instead of saying, “Hey you two. What’s going on here? You his sister or something?” She storms away and spends twenty minutes of the movie refusing to explain to him why she’s upset because no one knows how to communicate in these Hallmark movies. The end. Someone, please hire me. I will make you all the moneys.
Another job I feel confident I could do quite well is voice work for children’s shows. I, too, can over-enthusiastically sound surprised when the mail arrives an hour late or when I need a circle to complete the toy car that will rush to the park where the mayor will honor the only person capable of saving the town: a five-year-old. I can also make a litany of grunting noises should a fight scene be included in the script. Just thought I slid that one in there.
Sometimes I stroll through the greeting card section at Dollar Tree and look through the dramatic stock photos beautifully framed with some vague, cheesy message, and I think, I could do that. I have an English degree, after all. If I can’t BS some generic greeting card prose, then I should just return my diploma.
A couple of months ago, I was at a junior high play where a young teen apologetically handed me the most hideous program I’ve ever seen. The words were crooked on the page, all in a basic serif font, and the inside of the program was upside down. I don’t even want to talk about the misspelled cast names. No need to verbally murder the woman who threw that thing together. When my husband saw it, he turned to me and whispered, “They should have asked you to create this program.” Well, I don’t want to brag, but I do have a little publishing experience I gleaned at the feet of my uber talented mother. I chuckled and imagined how I would improve the layout and overall look of the horribly folded piece of paper. Basically, my husband is an enabler.
I know that I am over-simplifying many of these professions, but for the moment, leave me to my dreams. Allow me the luxury of self-aggrandizing validation whilst I while away my lonely days at home. And let me know if you have ever come across something and thought, Someone is getting paid for this? I need to get in on this action. Hire me!