There are times I just get sick of the old 9am – 9pm routine, there are times when it can be mentally and physically exhausting doing the same job every day.
Maybe just one day a month I’d like to spice it up a little, do something different for the day before going returning back to my old job. I’m not sure what job I’d do but it would be nice to do something different but returning to my old job with a new appreciation for the career I chose.
I have a malicious streak at times; perhaps I’d be a traffic warden. Now normally I would have no interest in doing this job, certainly I wouldn’t want to do it full time I can’t stand traffic wardens but then there are times when I can’t stand other drivers either. There is something quite delicious about the street theatre played out when a motorist returns to find a warden in the process of issuing a ticket. It offers pathos, pleading, anger and occasionally a spot of violence. I particularly enjoy watching the traffic wardens in action during the Christmas shopping season, when the city streets are polluted by motorists on their missions of rampant consumerism.
One lunchtime stroll was immensely cheered by the sight of a lady, laden with shopping, having to watch her car, carelessly abandoned, being hoisted on to the back of a lorry and taken off to the police car park. Another time I saw a vehicle being taken away and watched, from across the street whilst eating my 3 course meal, as the driver returned and went through the gamut of emotions as he found himself deprived of his precious sports car.
It must be a grand life as a traffic warden, and healthy too with all that walking about. Also you are contributing to society by helping to control the insidious effects of the internal combustion engine. But, mainly, it’s the get-it-right-up-ye factor that appeals.
But as far as I know, there are no openings for freelance or locum traffic wardens. I would happily be an unpaid vigilante-style warden, especially if my powers extended to penalising drivers who drive around talking on their mobile phones, or with music reverberating at an unholy level, or who drop litter out of their cars. Or, indeed, ladies who apply their make-up while driving along at 32mph. No hands, no brains.
Maybe just maybe if I was a freelance traffic warden my inconsiderate neighbours would park properly and allow me some space to park in my own cul-de-sac at night, instead of having to drive 4 or 5 streets away.
Second thoughts maybe I wouldn’t want a job at all, maybe I’d rather be a bonobo. The bonobo is a species of ape found in the forests bordering the Zaire river in Africa. They have 98% of the same genes as humans, which makes the bonobo our nearest relative.
The bad news for the bonobo is that they are being hunted almost to extinction to put food on the table of hungry Africans. The good news is that the bonobo, when left to their own devices, enjoy a society based on love not war. The art of sexual reconciliation may well have reached its evolutionary peak in the bonobo. For these animals, sexual behaviour is indistinguishable from social behaviour.
Basically, the bonobo is too busy getting it on to get involved in acts of aggression. Sexual contact is as natural to them as a handshake is to a human. It’s as if, instead of a leaving a comment on a blog or two you had a quickie on the nearest double bed you could find.
I’m up for following the bonobo code. It certainly seems better than the way of life pursued by those of us with the other 2% of the genes. I am sure I could cope, given that your average male bonobo manages a coupling in 13 seconds.