Of course now I’m just jealous that my skin isn’t chitinous.

After attempting to erode the vile concoction that’s congealed at the bottom of my green bin, it gave me cause to think. Firstly, I’ve realised just who it is that puts those fucking brittle paper bags in the bin. Those same people who are courteous enough to put our bin out front. I don’t know if I’m to stay grizzly at them or to stop bearing this grudge altogether. In any case, I looked (the smell had wafted over long before) at the bin and surmised that something had to be done. In what was nothing more than half-baked logic and likely ill-effective, I boiled a kettle and doused the fermented bio waste in viciously hot water. I hope it breaks the gross mass up, rather than rising back like Obi Wan. The second revelation that I had (look a couple of lines up, I had an epiphany before this) was that trash collecting is not a profession I could ever see myself in. I wouldn’t want the early mornings, a purely physical job doesn’t interest me, I don’t even know if I’d be interested in a job that kept me outside. Forget the usual off-putting scent, there are so many things that don’t attract me about the job. It got me thinking, what other jobs would be in my worst case scenario drawer?

Accountancy. Or almost any admin type role that involved numbers. I’m not a total blockhead, but my brain computer doesn’t run on binary. I need words, abstract concepts and lateral thinking. My brain is not literal, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have just dumped boiling water in my green bin. If I was more logical I would’ve just googled the answer. When a problem comes up, my thoughts zoom to alternate notions and potential functions outside of what I actually need. We’re testing a new system at work and it’s doing my head in. Spreadsheets and data tables, numbers and percentages. It’s like I’m used to running through corridors that curve and all of a sudden I’m dealing with unexpected right angles. It’s jarring and I have to keep stopping to think and breathe. I’m not a robot, I’m human (read: I’m erring. Lots).

A more spiritual variant of any profession. I could see myself maybe doing some kind of physical instruction (didn’t you teach gymnastics for a bit? – Ed), but I’d put a hard stop at yoga. I could tell people to stretch, but the latent woo woo of chakras and spiritual alignment would unalign whatever chakras or engrams or other qi-z concept they could throw at me. Being a dietician or nutritionist wouldn’t be the worst thing, but as soon as naturopathy came into the picture I’d be fucking out of there. Physio maybe, chiropractor, no fucking way. Of course, any of this stuff would’ve meant I skewed towards body knowledge somewhere in my life, which isn’t the case. If that happened, I probably wouldn’t need help in those kind of areas. Oddly enough, despite my spiritual aversion I’d probably make a pretty good cult leader.

Vanity salesperson. This is a wide net. I’d find it hard to sell clothing, make-up, accessories or any products designed to accentuate attractiveness. I’ve always had an aversion to mentioning people’s looks. If I’m gonna compliment someone, it’ll rarely be on physical qualities. Likely because of own held insecurities, I naturally assume that people care more about what they are then what they look like. Even the thought of it makes me feel shallow, I’ve got this innate block against it. I can’t imagine how awful I’d feel spending a day judging and categorising others based on how they present themselves. Like I was placing importance upon these characteristics that clash so heavily with my values. Logically I know that this isn’t the case for most people. People like being complimented on their appearance, because it’s validating and our society highlights its importance. Still, I’d feel like a tool if I was constantly reaffirming others self-worth through outward characteristics. No bueno.

At the end of the day, humans are like cockroaches. While our skin isn’t chitinous, we do have the ability to adapt to most situations. If it came to it, I could do any of the above jobs. I’m just fortunate enough to inhabit a place in society where I don’t have to stoop to things I don’t want to do. Isn’t that something? Here I am refusing to sell necklaces, while in some countries, people get necklaced. Makes you think, eh?

Then again, the last time I did that I filled my bin with boiling water, so maybe I should hold off on thinking for now.

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