Mission Unaccomplished

Here’s my horoscope from a couple of Sundays ago:

I’m pretty sure I’m the reigning champ of the world… nay, the universe… at goofing off. I’ve been practicing for decades. My job during the summer after my freshman year of college was lifeguard.

Sure, we had to make sure the pool patrons didn’t drown (it’s bad for repeat business), but 99.9% of the time I was sitting on my butt…. or using tortilla chips to skim the crusty layer off the nacho “cheese” (using that term very loosely) in the snack bar.

The following summer I took the same gig .(I’m mean, who wouldn’t double down on the free nachos?).

I shifted gears slightly the next summer – I was a summer camp counselor. Actually, check that, I was a summer day camp counselor. So I spent my days playing “Capture the Flag” with a bunch of rugrats (and got a free lunch) but then I could go home to a bed instead of roughing it in a tent or cabin.

None of those jobs involved night shifts. The pool was closed on Sunday. While the money wasn’t great, the jobs were decidedly “cush gigs.”

Once I graduated, my jobs were:

• Marketing at a horse racing track
• radio station
• another radio station
• travel agent
• radio yet again
• still more radio
• writer at an ad agency
• writer at a marketing firm

These dainty hands of mine have never known calluses. (Although there was that one time when the hot nacho cheese dripped on a knuckle… )

Writing takes up the lion’s share of my workday now. And with all due respect to the late great sportswriter Red Smith, who said:

Writing is easy. You simply sit down at the typewriter, open your veins, and bleed.”

The type of writing I do (employee communications) isn’t exactly War and Peace. And the first part of writing is coming up with ideas, which is really glorified daydreaming. So I get paid to stare out the window. (I’m really really good at it… probably my 2nd best skill behind “nacho eating.”)

I do believe I’ve fulfilled my horoscope destiny. (It’s not being lazy if it’s written in the stars!)

However, I don’t want to take any chances. To increase my goofing off capacity, I need to make sure my well-honed do-nothing muscles don’t atrophy. Practice makes perfect, right? So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be the one napping on the couch, with a streak of nacho “cheese” trailing down my cheek.