What do you really want to be?
An exploration into the topic of reinventing yourself, with a little help from friends and family
Gentle readers, if you could completely reinvent yourself, what would you become?
When I posed this question to family and Facebook friends, I received some interesting responses. “Stop wasting my time!” said one. A renowned editor said: “a Lamborghini-driving archeologist.” Puts a different spin on the Indiana Jones archetype! Imagine driving to a remote dig in dense jungle in a powerful, sleek, high-tech, air-conditioned sports car (with limited trunk space to put your tomb-raided loot). Imagine ripping out your low-slung car’s undercarriage when driving over jungle rocks and thick roots. Then driving into quicksand.
A family friend, who works in finance for a large corporation, said: “a dragon.” Now that would take care of Canada Revenue Agency inspectors, pesky forensic accountants, and — especially — tax lawyers. However, you may have challenges fitting into an elevator (flying into an open window is impossible since windows in office towers don’t open).
A nephew said: “a wild pit bull.” That’s almost as ferocious as a dragon, but without the flame. (Do both of these people have serious anger issues?)
My wife selected: “a double-knot spy.” The spelling of “knot” is deliberate, instead of “nought,” which means “zero.” She was inspired by a classic Beverly Hillbillies episode. So I imagine her spy would tie up her prey with double knots, making it very hard to escape. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just shoot them, like that famous British double-nought spy?
She also said: “a fly on the wall.” Imagine being privy to secret, behind-closed-doors conversations! Imagine encountering a bug zapper!
Another friend said: “a serial killer hunter.” Now that would render a great service to society!
Another nephew said: “a mechanic, or hardware specialist for computers.” If you were proficient in both, you’d be invaluable to spy organizations, courier companies, restaurant chains with a fleet of delivery cars, and Canada’s military, whose antiquated equipment is always breaking down.
A longtime elementary school teacher said: “a general.” When a general barks orders, they are instantly obeyed, without question or argument. Any insubordination results in the student being punished by peeling potatoes. Lots of potatoes. Or cleaning washrooms.
A pro hockey player, fed up with hard ice and cold arenas, might say: “champion surfer.”
A taxi driver might say: “doctor,” since that’s what he was trained as in his native country. Conversely, a doctor, overwhelmed with work and ever-increasing government paperwork, might say: “taxi driver.”
A manager of a famous Canadian hotel, which is haunted by at least three ghosts, might say: “a ghostbuster.” He’d be sacked — and sued — because of the collateral damage to the historic edifice caused by the scorching blasts from his proton pack, trying to corral the spooks.
A lover of history might say: “a time traveller.” Would let them witness key historical events firsthand, settling decades of speculation. Would also be quite hazardous (what really killed the dinosaurs, what happened to Amelia Earhart, who really invented Pop-Tarts).
A certain president (if re-elected) of a country to the south would say: “a dictator.” This would allow him to ruthlessly squash all opposition, control news media, have his every demented demand enacted, be reelected in perpetuity, and increase his personal wealth through bribes, kickbacks and Bible sales.
As for me? I’d say: “billionaire philanthropist.” Would let me do good works all over the world, like the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation which, in partnership with Rotary International, is spending billions to eradicate polio from the planet.
Either that, or: “short-order fry cook.”