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Tropical ambition
Jan. 25, 2019
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by Ivan Raconteur

It happens every year about this time.

The pleasant September days are far enough behind us that I can’t quite remember them clearly anymore, and the first taste of spring sunshine is still a distant dream.

We are trapped in winter’s icy grip, and I begin to lose hope that it will ever let go.

It is on these frosty mornings and dark, depressing nights that I start to think about a new job.

I don’t mean a local new job – I mean one in the Caribbean, or possibly the Bahamas. I’m not too fussy as long as the sea is blue and the sun bright.

Surprisingly, although I have scoured the online employment opportunities carefully, jobs in a tropical paradise are not as easy to come by as one might think. At least not the kind of job I am looking for.

I’ve done a lot of different jobs in my life. I wouldn’t necessarily want to do most of them again.

I hope my heavy lifting days are behind me. Given a choice, I’d never lift anything heavier than a mango daiquiri. No, I take that back. I wouldn’t mind lifting a tray of mango daiquiris if I had some pals to help me drink them.

The kind of job I am looking for now is something at a more relaxed pace.

I wouldn’t mind being a newspaper editor in the tropics if I could show up at the office about noon, work for a few hours, then take a siesta before working a couple more hours and going home for the day.

Unfortunately, unless the news biz is a lot different there than it is here, that probably wouldn’t fly.

I have always wanted to see Tahiti. Maybe I could get a job there.

Perhaps I could get a job as a seat holder. I’d be willing to hang out on the beach and be a seat holder. When tourists get hot and want to take a dip in the ocean, I could sit and watch their stuff until they got back. That wouldn’t be too difficult.

Barbados might also be a good fit for me.

I have spent some time studying rum. Maybe I could get a job sampling rum, or selling rum, or talking to tourists about rum.

I think I’d be good at that, but I’m not sure anyone would pay me for those things.

Sadly, one of the disappointments in my life is that the wealth of knowledge I have accumulated tends not to be the kind of information people are willing to pay for.

I’m not very strong on the categories that are worth the big money, but I do know a lot of useless things.

Maybe if I were to just hang out in tropical bars, people might buy me drinks just to hear some of the strange facts I have amassed over the years.

I could become a sort of local character. If I were really lucky, maybe I could get some bar owners to pay me a little something to have me hang around and share my odd facts as long as I kept the punters buying drinks. I could be good for business.

I hate to admit it, but the truth is I really don’t want a job at all.

I don’t want to live in a frozen wasteland, and I don’t want to have to work according to someone else’s schedule.

I’d rather just take a nap in a hammock and let the gentle tropical breezes rock me to sleep.

Something tells me the only place I’m going to find a gig like that is in my dreams.


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