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At some point today, you’ve probably thought that you have the worst job in the world–and you’re right, for once. Here are some of the worst jobs imaginable, and here’s why they’re better than yours.
Waste collector, refuse disposer, or sanitation engineer if you feel the need to be politically correct–call him whatever you want. You stereotype him as a degenerate high school dropout with five kids spewed across four different states and one in Mexico. To be fair, the Mexico kid wasn’t his fault, and it’s still unconfirmed, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a compensation package your mid-level manager would permanently trade his wife and kids for. The funny part is that he probably pities you more than you pity him. After all, you’re still at least three tax brackets lower than the person who shovels your shit for a living (and knows exactly how many hot pockets you consumed last week). Now that’s humbling.
Baby Food Taste Tester
It might be a bit emasculating to make your living testing the edibility of glorified mush, but it is far more awesome that your job is basically one long lunch break. Not to mention, it’s on the house, which means he doesn’t have Fran from accounting threateningly cracking half-jokes about handing in the receipt for the banana you bought at the airport last week. So, congratulations, $14 salad consumers of America, your life would be better off if you just handed in your two weeks right now with the reason, “Once a Gerber baby, always a Gerber baby.” Just let that sink in for a sec.
Stuck in the same silent, death-promoting environment, a librarian probably hates her job just as much as you hate yours. The difference is that she can take her anger out on the people around her, while you’d be fired faster than you can sarcastically say, “Nice weather we’re having” as it’s monsooning outside. She’s encouraged–better yet, paid–to tell people to either shut up or piss off. Sure, her idea of fun is teaching blind 5-year-olds the Dewey Decimal System. At least the people she converses with on a daily basis have an intelligence level higher than, well, your boss. Meanwhile, you’re still teaching Cheryl the basics of Microsoft Windows ’97.
Mentally, your foot’s halfway in the grave, so what difference would adding a physical component make? Gravediggers probably work fewer hours than you and get to sleep in every morning. The only multitasking skills required are being able to pick up a shovel and hum like a cotton picker, plus that creepy limp they all have. Say goodbye to meaningless conversation about Gertrude’s brother’s cousin’s Bar Mitzvah and say hello to breaking wind with vigor whenever you damn well please–you can’t kill anyone if everyone’s dead, #logic. Plus, it wins you some points with the big fella upstairs, which you probably could use after dressing up as a slutty orangutan last Halloween.
The worst part about being a Sherpa is that they climb Mount Everest for a living. The best part about being a Sherpa is that they climb Mount Everest for a living. Clearly, this means there are some real ups and downs, but it also means they’re in fucking impeccable shape. They aren’t passive-aggressively guilt tripped into joining a gym by their girlfriends and they sure don’t feel the need to say a little prayer every time they down a hormone-infused “protein drink” and wake up the same gender they went to bed as. Add in the natural high you get at 27,000 feet, and I’m sold. Who cares if Sherpas only have a life expectancy of 14 years? “Died while climbing Mount Everest” looks way more baller on a tombstone than “Died while choking on a Chipotle burrito because everyone thought he was ‘just being the funny guy’ when he motioned for the Heimlich.”