Opus the Spy

Frustrated by this area’s paucity of jobs that: 1. I’m qualified for, and 2. pay enough to justify putting on makeup and real shoes, I made an appointment with the career counselor at Unemployment to see if he could suggest a redirection. As a start, he asked that I do what’s called a “Strong Interest Inventory Profile.”

I submitted the profile last week. It was kind of fun. The computer lead me through an inventory of skills, interests, activities, etc., to determine what interest areas and occupations might be the best “fit” for me. I was instructed not to think if I can do these things or not, just what might appeal to me.

After I’d gone through all the items, I decided I either wanted to be a secret service agent, or a spy.

Once my father reminded me that as a secret service agent I might have to take a bullet for someone like Bush, I demurred. But I think I’d make a great spy. Husband agrees. I’m forever sneaking up on him (He claims; but I just walk quietly and don’t make a lot of noise, like he does), I’m persistent as hell, and I can step into a room and know exactly what’s been changed, even in a frat-house bomb like our kitchen.

“You had spaghetti for dinner last night,” I once told husband one morning. (He’s a night owl and often makes dinner long after I’ve gone to bed.)

“Yeah?” he said. “How do you know that?”

I do the mental eye-roll. Please. He actually thinks he can fool me. “There’s a strand of uncooked spaghetti on the stove and the colander’s in the dish drainer.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Guess I could never have an affair, huh?”

But then again, I doubt that spy-dom is as romantic as the media fantasies would have it. There’s probably a lot of paperwork, a lot of sitting around in cars waiting for people that might never show up. Maybe I’d learn stuff that would turn my stomach sour on the whole human race. I’m having a hard enough time summoning up what little positive energy I do have without my job threatening to squash it all the time.

Today I went to learn the results of my profile.

“Tell me I’m meant to be a rodeo clown,” I ask the counselor.

He smiles. Thank God, I think I’ve found the only person in the Department of Labor who appreciates my sense of humor. Maybe I’ll have the affair (just kidding, guys. JUST KIDDING).

“Actually, it lines up pretty predictably based on what you told me about yourself last week.”

I was a little disappointed to be called predictable, but vindicated that what I chose to do with my life to date has not been so totally out of line with who I am.

Here are the results:

My Highest Themes:
Artistic, Investigative, Social (in that order of popularity)

My Top Five Interest Areas:
1. Writing and Mass Communication
2. Performing Arts
3. Visual Arts and Design
4. Marketing and Advertising
5. Science

My Top Ten Strong Occupations:

1. Technical Writer
2. Editor
3. Art Teacher
4. Architect
5. Graphic Designer
6. Librarian
7. Photographer
8. Translator
9. Network Administrator
10. English Teacher

Not too bad, I thought. Architect is probably out, for all the years of expensive schooling it would require. My translation skills would probably do little more than foment a diplomatic war between the US and France. And Network Administrator? How the hell did that get in there?

Then he showed me directories with lots of formulas with circles and arrows and paragraphs on the back of each one to let you know what kind of credentials, training and abilities each profession requires, so you can decide if you want to go in that direction.

For now, I’m going to let it all settle and see how I feel.

Or just wait until the next rodeo comes to town.