Dream Job

In my dream job there would be no men sitting around talking about what they did at the strip club during lunch. I could wear comfortable shoes every day. I would make enough to support myself without running out of food and gas money every month. That would be perfect.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “dream job.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “Dream Job”

  1. ‘Been there. ‘Done that. There are no more “jobs” in my present or future: certainly no dream job. Jobs at this time of life include humor, ability to feed and care for oneself, “walk in beauty”, write or otherwise communicate/relate with God, “the poor”, friends, family, and so on. None of these pay well, but they are values to everyone involved. Growing old, growing wiser, letting go, daily gratefulness for the good in the world. These things comprise the dream job of any oldie worth her/his salt.

  2. I never had a dream job. My “dream job” now is to be contentedly retired doing all the things I enjoy without any pressure from anyone. I don’t miss the jobs. I loved working in advertising/marketing. The pace was fast. We all worked like a well-oiled team and would celebrate each time we were successful at putting together a great advertising/marketing campaign for one of our clients. That was my dream job but even that was marred by one of the owners to whom I reported. One day on his way back from a meeting with a client he called from his car. He was high as a kite on heroin and asked me if I knew what happened to a man when he saw a sexy, good looking woman walking by. He followed this question with a remark that he couldn’t see out of the window implying he had an erection. Then there was the successful executive who was obese but wore beautiful custom-made suits. He thought he was quite something. He’d lean over peering at whatever I was writing and tell me I smelled “good.” Once on the way to a sales division dinner meeting he insisted I leave my car in the corporate parking lot and ride with him. What? I wasn’t planning on being his or anyone else’s geisha. He had already impressed the mostly female staff that it was very important that they all dance with the visiting salesmen. Nope, I don’t want a dream job … not if that’s what it involves – obnoxious crude males who know you need the job and will tolerate their poor behavior more than you should.

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