What I want to be when I grow up
I like to watch the credits at the end of movies, the whole shebang from beginning to ending. I have discovered in my journeys through the credits that there are some very interesting jobs to be had in the movie industry. Now, these intriguing jobs most likely have a film industry meaning and I could google to find out what they mean, but I prefer to let my imagination run amok because that's how I roll, man. So here goes:
BIG CHEESE - yep, there was a job in a movie (the title of which I can't remember) called Big Cheese. One lucky guy got to be the Big Cheese. What exactly does someone do in a Big Cheese position? Well, maybe the person is in charge of all the types of cheeses that find themselves on the food table in the movie mess hall. Perhaps the person has to be from Wisconsin where cheese is all the rage. Could be that the person really knows how to cut the cheese, if you know what I mean. Maybe the guy is a big hunk of cheese himself, bigger than the little cheeses we find in a grocery store. Or it could be that he's a know-it-all and that title was too long for the space allotted in the credits for this position. What a life, to be a Big Cheese!
TABLE LADIES - there were three women for this job. Hmmm . . . let's see . . . do these women:
1) dance on tables -- you go, girls, but what I wanna know -- is this with or without the imbibation (I think this is a word -- if not, I'm going for it anyway) of liquor?
2) draw tables (the kind scientists and accountants like)
3) look like tables (all rectangular and blocky)
4) build tables (after all, tables are not hatched from eggs)
5) paint tables (can't leave a table naked)
6) sleep on tables (ouch - not very comfortable but anything for the movie industry)
7) have sex on tables -- you go, girls -- gotta keep the Big Cheeses of the world happy!
8) simply, are tables, female tables in particular -- maybe with some flowers twirling the legs.
DIRT REMOVAL - only one lone person, Nancy Jencks, was assigned this magnanimous job. OK, Nancy, let's guess what you were doing. This was a Star Trek movie, so perhaps Nancy had to get rid of a boatload of earth dirt to create a nice, evenly compacted landing pad for the alien spaceship. Maybe she got to use a backhoe or an excavator or a Bobcat skid steer loader (huh? do they really load cattle into this thing?), showing off her fine woman's muscles, her dexterity with all the gears and stuff. Or maybe she only had a shovel because all the movie money went to the stars' salaries or constructing the alien spaceship or the Starship Enterprise. What did poor Nancy do with all the dirt she removed? Did she put it somewhere else and then had to put it back where it came from when the movie was finished filming? Or was she in charge of selling the dirt to people who want dirt so she could help replenish the movie coffers? Perhaps she had to clean all the dirt on the alien spaceship and on the earth people's homes with walls and windows. (I think they had windows; this was, after all, the remnants of humanity after the war-to-end-all-wars so it's conceivable that their hovels didn't sport windows. I really need to be more observant about these things in movieland.) Perhaps Nancy was the washerwoman responsible for washing and drying everyone's dirt-clad clothes. The possibilities are endless when it comes to dirt.
So now I am pondering whether or not I should change my career, my direction in life. We know life is finite, and I don't want to have tons of regrets when the end comes knocking on my door. I'm balancing my choices: writer, librarian, Big Cheese, animal lover/rescuer, activist, Table Lady, chocolate lover, hiker, Dirt Removal Girl, yard maintenance worker. Hmmmmm . . . well, I've made my decision. I believe the best job ever would be . . . BIG CHEESE TABLE LADY with her own personal power to hire the best Dirt Removal person in the world (I say "person" because I would be an equal opportunity employer -- Nancy, you are welcome to apply because I hear you did a bang-up job removing all that dirt in lalaland - you go, girl!).
Big Cheese Table Lady - yeah, I really like the sound of that. I wonder what my cats will think when their mama becomes a Big Cheese Table Lady.
BIG CHEESE - yep, there was a job in a movie (the title of which I can't remember) called Big Cheese. One lucky guy got to be the Big Cheese. What exactly does someone do in a Big Cheese position? Well, maybe the person is in charge of all the types of cheeses that find themselves on the food table in the movie mess hall. Perhaps the person has to be from Wisconsin where cheese is all the rage. Could be that the person really knows how to cut the cheese, if you know what I mean. Maybe the guy is a big hunk of cheese himself, bigger than the little cheeses we find in a grocery store. Or it could be that he's a know-it-all and that title was too long for the space allotted in the credits for this position. What a life, to be a Big Cheese!
TABLE LADIES - there were three women for this job. Hmmm . . . let's see . . . do these women:
1) dance on tables -- you go, girls, but what I wanna know -- is this with or without the imbibation (I think this is a word -- if not, I'm going for it anyway) of liquor?
2) draw tables (the kind scientists and accountants like)
3) look like tables (all rectangular and blocky)
4) build tables (after all, tables are not hatched from eggs)
5) paint tables (can't leave a table naked)
6) sleep on tables (ouch - not very comfortable but anything for the movie industry)
7) have sex on tables -- you go, girls -- gotta keep the Big Cheeses of the world happy!
8) simply, are tables, female tables in particular -- maybe with some flowers twirling the legs.
DIRT REMOVAL - only one lone person, Nancy Jencks, was assigned this magnanimous job. OK, Nancy, let's guess what you were doing. This was a Star Trek movie, so perhaps Nancy had to get rid of a boatload of earth dirt to create a nice, evenly compacted landing pad for the alien spaceship. Maybe she got to use a backhoe or an excavator or a Bobcat skid steer loader (huh? do they really load cattle into this thing?), showing off her fine woman's muscles, her dexterity with all the gears and stuff. Or maybe she only had a shovel because all the movie money went to the stars' salaries or constructing the alien spaceship or the Starship Enterprise. What did poor Nancy do with all the dirt she removed? Did she put it somewhere else and then had to put it back where it came from when the movie was finished filming? Or was she in charge of selling the dirt to people who want dirt so she could help replenish the movie coffers? Perhaps she had to clean all the dirt on the alien spaceship and on the earth people's homes with walls and windows. (I think they had windows; this was, after all, the remnants of humanity after the war-to-end-all-wars so it's conceivable that their hovels didn't sport windows. I really need to be more observant about these things in movieland.) Perhaps Nancy was the washerwoman responsible for washing and drying everyone's dirt-clad clothes. The possibilities are endless when it comes to dirt.
So now I am pondering whether or not I should change my career, my direction in life. We know life is finite, and I don't want to have tons of regrets when the end comes knocking on my door. I'm balancing my choices: writer, librarian, Big Cheese, animal lover/rescuer, activist, Table Lady, chocolate lover, hiker, Dirt Removal Girl, yard maintenance worker. Hmmmmm . . . well, I've made my decision. I believe the best job ever would be . . . BIG CHEESE TABLE LADY with her own personal power to hire the best Dirt Removal person in the world (I say "person" because I would be an equal opportunity employer -- Nancy, you are welcome to apply because I hear you did a bang-up job removing all that dirt in lalaland - you go, girl!).
Big Cheese Table Lady - yeah, I really like the sound of that. I wonder what my cats will think when their mama becomes a Big Cheese Table Lady.
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