Careering Down the Hill of Life

Does anyone else spend as much time as I do thinking of alternative careers? I sometimes long for the 'job for life' certainty of days gone by. You knew where you were with that: at the same place for the better part of forty years, with the occasional shift up the career ladder onto a marginally higher rung, with a bit of a payrise and then a pension at the end of it.

These days, most people have their first career crisis when they're thirty, as you get disillusioned with that 'career' you've tried so hard to launch (in badly paid media jobs) or the long hours and relentless pressure of being a high-flyer. Loads of people I knew suddenly retrained as teachers; I went freelance (I had no career, and I was in a classic badly paid media job, so what did I really have to lose, other than an office to go to every day?). If you don't do that, then you have a bit of a re-think when you've had kids. Lots of part-timers and four-day-a-weekers, post-babies, I've found.

However, as I have no children, and no plans for any, and I've stayed in largely the same job as I've ever had, I feel at forty it's time for my postponed career crisis. I'm brilliant at procrastination, so it's only right that I've waited for a decade longer than everyone else to think, 'hmm, what on earth can I do with the rest of my working years that will involve very little stress and responsibility, but still pay me enough to keep me in increasingly pricey face creams?' Yes, this is the thought process of the post-Bridget Jones singleton. You don't worry about finding Mr Right any more (even Mr He'd Do For Now eludes you, unless you go trawling the internet dating sites), you just worry about how old people think you are; drowned by a daily tsunami of photos in the media of forty-somethings looking amazing - even whilst on the school run - you know that Looking Younger Than You Are is the only thing worth aiming for.

So far, my alternative career musings have encompassed:
Becoming a florist. I love flowers, and I enjoyed helping out with arranging the flowers for two weddings. Bingo!
Becoming a manicurist - I like doing my nails; doing someone else's for money would be... well, it surely wouldn't be stressful, other than getting high as a kite on fumes every day.
Running a cake shop that also sells books - I like cake, I like books, but which one is better - there's only one way to find out. FIIIIIII... no, have a shop which sells both and see which one makes you more money of course.
Train to be a life coach for morbidly obese people. More and more people are obese. I've managed to lose a bit of weight, and am a de facto expert. Plus, I bloody love The Biggest Loser. Ongoing cash, guaranteed, and hopefully a minor telly career.
Win the Lottery - this isn't a career, as such, it would just be the best way forward.

Of course, I'm going to do none of these things, because I am big on talk and small on action. I need to go on courses (investigation required; time and money dedicated; probably some book learnin' and an exam or some sort of course work/assessment. All seems exhausting). I'd have to think of ways to market myself. It would take energy, and leaps of faith and that kind of thing.

So, for the time being, I shall leave it to James Franco, who seems to be living the life of five people at any one time. Not content with being an excellent actor, he's also busy modelling, directing short films, publishing books of short stories, having obscure art exhibitions in groovy places like Berlin, making records with people AND fitting in a PhD. He's making me feel like a total under-achiever. All that and handsome too. Stop it, Franco, you're giving me a headache and making my career musings feel even more hopelessly puny.

Still, I won £2.50 on the Lottery last week, so I'm sure that soon I'll be giving all this up for a life of unmitigated luxury and will never have to worry about working again.