Sweary Bear, Career Advisor.

December 2, 2011

It’s early December, and schools and universities around the country are spitting out graduates like so much masticated tobacco. The job market is about to be flooded with recruits so enthusiastic they make Steve Irwin look like a chronically fatigued slug*.

But how, after the post-exam weeks of getting tanked, jumping off balconies and shouting “AAWWBEGARRRNSSCUNT!” at cars, does one make a career choice? How do these spunky young upstarts put their newly-acquired skills and few remaining brain cells into action?

As always, Sweary Bear is here to help. Let’s talk jobbies.

Once upon a time, the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up, little Johnny?” would be answered with simple phrases like “A fireman!”, “A doctor!” or “A Architeck!”. Then sometime around the early nineties, job titles became more important than actual jobs and we started seeing shit like “Customer Experience Manager”, “Organisational Effectiveness Consultant” and “Media Strategist” appear in the Positions Vacant. Now how the fuck is little Johnny supposed to have any fucking ambition if he doesn’t know what the fuck people do?

If you’re one of those poor arses with a stupidly vague job title, you can do something to help the oncoming wave of starry-eyed job-seekers to navigate the baffling maze of job-title fucknuttery. If your name tag says, “Director of First Impressions”, cross it out and write “I Answer The Phone”. If the name plate on your cubicle says “Backend Developer”, cover it with a piece of masking tape that says “I Know What All Those Squiggles Mean”. And if you’re introduced on talk shows as a “Social Commentator”, look straight into the camera and shout “I’M A HOUSEWIFE AND THE PRODUCER IS MY BROTHER-IN-LAW!”

But at least answering phones, writing software and doing housework are real jobs. At least these people can climb into bed at the end of the day knowing that they actually fucking made someone’s life a little bit easier.

Not everybody with a job title can say the same. There are some dickheads prancing around offering goods and services so useless, so utterly fucking arse-born that I’m amazed people actually fall for it to the point of opening their wallet. But just because some clueless twat will pay you for what you do, doesn’t mean it’s a real job. Just because you can artfully place an adjective next to a fucking noun doesn’t mean you’re not a waste of fucking oxygen. I’m looking at you, Animal Whisperer. I’m looking at you, Energy Healer. And I don’t think I can even fucking look at you, Psychic Detective.




*Yes I know he’s dead. It’s a fucking simile.



2 Responses to “Sweary Bear, Career Advisor.”

  1. Mel said

    And yes, I realise I wrote “you’re” instead of “your”… I’m old and don’t give a crap!

  2. Mel said

    You’re wisdom is great, yes it is. It also makes me snort laugh.

Go on then. Have a go.

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