Do not believe everything you read on this site. Not every job is awful, horrible, terrible, no-good, soul-crushing, mind-numbing slave labor. In fact, some jobs are really cool and exciting! Unfortunately, yours isn’t one of them. Sucks to suck. But don’t worry, you’re in great company. Many people wish they could pursue a job that looked cool to them from a TV show or a movie or something, even fewer people actually took a chance and tried to get that dream job. Those of us who went for it are in some strange kind of limbo between seeing the job they’ve always dreamed of, and the jobs they’re in now, which are kinda sorta on the right path to what they want to do? So close, yet so far. For those of you who chased after “Cool Jobs,” here are the expectations of what you thought you’d get vs. the shitty reality in which you live.
Expectation: You’re gonna be the next Ari Gold, discovering talent left and right, partying at the hottest clubs with your A-List talent, loudly berating your underlings and somehow have a smoking hot spouse.
Reality: You’re in the mailroom for the next five years, if you’re lucky. Ivy League graduates populate the mailrooms at the Big Four agencies, so you should be so lucky to get in there. IF you do, expect several years of being the lowest person on the totem pole before you even SEE an assistant’s desk, let alone work with clients, all the while getting loudly berated by a legion of Ari Gold-wannabes.
Expectation: It’s every pre, current and post-pubescent boy’s dream to get to take pictures of naked ladies for “Playboy” Magazine. You get to be in the same room as their boobies!
Reality: You never want to see how the sausage gets made. They airbrush for a reason, folks.
Expectation: Hob-nobbing with celebrities and screwing everything that moves, including some A-List clients; Basically, being Samantha from “Sex and the City.”
Reality: Coordinating Tom Berenger’s upcoming appearance on “The Arsenio Hall Show,” followed by trying to get Bob Balaban a free iPhone.
Expectation: Winning the Daytona 500, then spending the rest of your days banging models and endorsing Sobe Vitamin Water.
Reality: Running dirt track races until you’re 40 and inevitably die in a horrific crash.
Pro Sports Executive
Expectation: Daily meetings with the GM about potential roster moves, big free agent signings and giving them your input on the upcoming draft. You have a seat reserved for you in the owner’s box. Your best friend is Johnny Manziel.
Reality: You work in ticket sales until you’re 30, fill in for the mascot a few times, and never get promoted. Ever.
NFL Head Coach
Expectation: You’ll command respect the minute you enter the room, like Mike Ditka, Tom Landry or even Eric Taylor, and inspire your players to always give 110%. As they hoist you upon their shoulders and hand you the championship trophy, you’ll have taught them the most important lesson: Winning is only important if you play with heart and for the love of the game.
Reality: You’re babysitting a bench full of overpaid, whiny babies that don’t want to put in the extra effort because if they even get a hangnail, they’ll lose their Sobe Vitamin Water Power Gel endorsement. You’re the intermediary between a bunch of millionaire players and a gajillionaire owner. The media hates you and you get fired after one losing season.
Expectation: Smoking cigars in a big office, approving layouts and bylines, and shouting that you want outlandish, ridiculous things that make headlines, like pictures of Spider-Man.
Reality: You’re trying to keep circulation numbers up while always getting scooped by the internet, TV, radio and just about every form of media other than the telegraph.
Expectation: Instantly waltzing into the world of being a “high-class escort,” demanding thousands of dollars per hour from high-profile clients, toppling political regimes and first-class treatment, until being rescued from this life by a wealthy businessman who looks like Richard Gere circa 1990.
Reality: Syphilis and/or prison.
Reality TV Star
Expectation: Instant fame bolstered by Bravo’s Andy Cohen, getting paid big bucks per episode, a merchandise line, spin-offs galore, a development deal with Ryan Seacrest and a sex tape with Ray-J.
Reality: Chapter 11 Bankruptcy, inevitable drug addiction, and a sex tape with C-list rapper.
Expectation: Bond. James Bond.
Reality: Best case scenario, you have a boring desk job at the CIA. Worst case scenario, you get executed by Chechnyans, or ratted out by Karl Rove.
Expectation: Millions of adoring fans on Twitter and Facebook, unlimited access to the Rowdy Gentleman swag closet, Rush Boobs as far as the eye can see, and free Golden Tee.
Reality: Wise-cracking commenters, insane stalkers, constant use of spell-check, having to edit dogshit articles like this one.