There has to be an easy job out there for me, too

So I'm marching through the Saturday afternoon lineup of stuff on television, pausing for precisely 1.27 seconds on each channel as would be the norm, waiting for the next great thing to slap me, when I come across Rick Steves.

You know this guy.

No, he doesn't sell cars but he does sell Europe. Rick has developed this niche where he puts together little mini-documentaries and easy-does-it travel vignettes to let you in on all the little secrets about traveling through Italy or Spain. Maybe even Prague. His shows, usually on PBS, are heavy with hints like "sometimes the best hotel deals are off the main tourist areas." Or, "The plaza at Pisa is filled with aggressive vendors, all wanting a few of your American dollars."

He has expanded his successful little venture into paperback what-to-see tourist guides, full-fledged books (complete with maps), DVDs and on and on. As I'm watching him wander through the Saturday morning outdoor market at Florence, I'm saying to myself, "Why didn't I think of that?"

Why didn't I come up with this perfect -- and perfectly easy -- way to make a buck? Why did I get stuck with a cubicle with no air conditioning or windows, inklings of carpal tunnel, mountains of reports and watered-down Dr Pepper, while this guy gets to tell me what I could have guessed while he smiles his way through the best parts of Europe, making money hand over fist?

Surely there's some job out there that's perfect and perfectly easy.

I know that in some large food processing companies, there are people in the research and development areas that only taste stuff. One company that makes a long line of popcorn seasonings employs people to eat popcorn and give a thumbs up or thumbs down to new flavors. A bit too much of the smell of N'Orleans in the cajun seasoning? Thumbs down. Chocolate marshmallow remind you of grandma's house? Thumbs up. I could do this.

One of my friends used to be a "quality control employee" for an exercise equipment manufacturer. This, in layman's terms, meant he got to play basketball on the new line of portable basketball standards; got to jog on the new line of treadmills; and played around with dumbells -- no, not his work mates but the smallish weights the company made -- for eight hours.

I could do this.

Once upon a time I thought it would be easy money to be one of the super-secret MPAA movie reviewers, the ones who assign a rating for the Motion Picture Association of America. I'd get to see a lot of movies, and surely I could tell the difference between the 15 sexual references and activities in the average PG-13 movie and the 15.5 sexual references in an R-movie. Maybe I could watch enough movies to figure out what people see in Adam Sandler. But after some soul searching, I've decided I'd rather drink Windex than sit through everything Hollywood throws up and out at us. Sorry, I couldn't do this.

I could be Ron Boone. Oh, it would take a while for everyone to come to love me as much as a beloved former ABA and NBA player, I'd have to let Bear make funny signals behind my back, but I know I could call a game just as well. I could do this.

I could be an out-of-town consultant. That's easy money.

A couple of years ago an out-of-town consultant came to USU and totally screwed up the traffic patterns and ease of getting on to campus with one stupid suggestion. Where is he today? Out of town, of course, while we live with his suggestion. His idea -- he was from Boston, mind you, not Logan -- was to block off traffic turning onto campus from 400 North, the long-time and totally effective entrance off of a main highway -- Utah 89-91 -- and instead force traffic onto city streets and enter campus from 500 North. If you know Logan, you might know that instead of one pedestrian crosswalk the former way, there are now six pedestrian crosswalks to deal with. And instead of a grand, glorious, picturesque view of Old Main Hill, drivers are now greeted with bumpy two-lane city streets, lined with big, black garbage cans, the back end of students' cars sticking out of crowded driveways and aging apartments. Lovely.

I had to chuckle when the Tribune ran a story a few weeks ago about a visiting architect ("consultant") who gave his opinion on landmarks throughout the city. Thumbs up or down on this and that, with no regard to the work that goes on there, the historical significance or the effective use of space that building might actually be providing, just opinions shot from the hip. And then he left town. Heck, I could do this.

Oh, here's one for you:

This job is more important, more watched and the cause of more concern before you get it than after you begin drawing a paycheck. You will have your life examined, exaggerated and lied about before you ever show up to work. You will be the butt of jokes and satire and the strain will crack some weak applicants. Once you get the job, heck, you can disappear and still get the big bucks. Once on the job, you will attend a few funerals and wave during parades but, for the most part, assume the role of a non-entity. And as long as the world follows its normal course, getting there will be much more problematic than being there.

Yeah, I could be vice president.