In other words
Eeeny, meeny, miny mo—peg this kitty by her woe
My dad insisted on my becoming a doctor. A lawyer would be okay too.
As I passed the milestone of 10, I entertained every young girl’s dream (don’t deny it anyone) of being a flight attendant. Hollywood wasn’t a bad option either. Meeting a younger Robert Redford look-alike hasn’t killed anyone, I reasoned. (I know better now of course. Besides, he’s not that hot.)
Climbing the threshold of 15, the teaching profession started to lure. Summers off seemed pretty groovy. Off at 3 every day. (I know better now of course. Besides, summers are not that hot.) How about physiotherapist? Promoting health, helping people, problem-solving…
Graduation came and went and I dabbled at various jobs. One December I sold and wrapped pewter Christmas ham forks. Couldn’t sell one to save my life, but I got pretty good at wrapping.
At 18, I had a bright idea: I should be a professional full-time student. How could I go wrong, with free university education in Sweden? But wait a minute, how could the government have had this massive oversight that would allow me and millions of other smart people to study the history of Lithuanian warfare, women’s emancipation in Guyana, and felines’ inclination to knead? Forever!
Reality bites. I would still need to eat, maybe live somewhere. Back to the ham forks. Did I mention I had a knack for that? Having a talent would seem important when determining one’s career.
I was all of a sudden struck by the obvious: I should be a journalist. I could drink coffee—lots of it. I even had a subscription to a magazine.
More than 20 years later, after having worked in various roles in the media profession, I thought it would be high time to further hone my skills. A career test would surely help plan my career development and maybe further increase my job satisfaction.
The report confirmed some of the obvious: I tend to focus on the outer world of people and things, as well as on present and concrete information gained from my senses. I base my decisions primarily on logic and on objective analysis of cause and effect. I tend to like a planned and organized approach to life, and prefer to have things settled.
That little handy summary allows the report to spit out the 25 least likely occupations to suit me. I’m thinking sumo wrestler, snake charmer, heavy-duty mechanic in Russia—something along those lines. But no, no, no.
Quite the contrary, the list of things I shouldn’t do includes all the jobs I could envision myself doing and being happy with, with editor topping the list. Also in the not-to-do’s are physiotherapist, teacher, designer, actor.
Hmmm. Where did I go wrong? I guess I should have followed my early inclination to be a flight attendant. But how was I supposed to know that? My report clearly scores me low on intuition.
Well, this is depressing. I turn to the solutions page. After all, I am supposed to base my decisions on an accumulation of proven facts. Maybe the list of most suitable occupations will include “editor of regional publication with free, targeted circulation.” One can only hope. There must be lots of options for goal-driven people that require tough-minded analysis and organization based on concrete facts.
Fifty to be exact. Heavy-duty mechanic in Russia doesn’t seem so far-fetched anymore. I apparently have the aptitude for being a coal miner, steelworker, mechanical or chemical engineer. Wait, it gets worse. Those are back-up options.
Out of my top-18 occupational rankings, 15 of them involve bossing others around in a serious manner (the other three just some lower-level bossing). How about judge, high-level corporate executive, manager of fire station, factory supervisor, top level in government? And then, the number one match for me: manager of a retail store.
What would a reasonably intuitive person do at this stage? Switch careers? Dismiss the report?
You already know about the state of my intuition, so it should come as no surprise that I would apply past experience and well-honed skills to current problems. And since I know the seasonal futility of the Christmas forks—and that I’m too tall to become a flight attendant—I figure I’ll organize the problem (that’s kind of like a task, isn’t it?) and then proceed in an efficient manner, according to plan.
I reckon most of those jobs the career report suggests I should be pursuing are actually part of the journalism profession. At Northword we’ve covered mining. We’ve welded new whatchamacallits in the filing cabinet, and those drinks we concocted would make any chemical engineer proud. As for the judge, that’s an easy one; we assess facts and significance all the time. And heaven knows we put out fires daily.
That leaves the one and most suitable profession for me: retail manager. Making decisions using logical and rational criteria is my strength, so solving this one came easy too. We’ll simply start selling cool coffee mugs. (Even if I’m not a hot journalist, I can still drink a lot of coffee.)
Keep the heat up with Northword—either by buying one of our cool mugs, or by checking out some of our cool stories about professions this issue, including odd jobs long gone. If you’re still fumbling around in the abyss of what to do with your life, get the skinny on being a taxidermist, consider making your own bio-diesel, scale some local peaks with the new Alpine Club, or harness your fear and attempt rock climbing. As usual, Northword finds out what makes people tick. Turn the page. It’s the logical things to do.
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