Commentary by Dick Wolfsie
My wife and I recently returned from a very relaxing vacation in Savannah, Ga. Life there seemed so serene that I began to wonder if I would have been better off in a career that didn’t include the nerve-racking deadline stresses of radio, TV and print media.
I once considered being a Walmart greeter. It looked like such a low-stress job, but a friend told me that he saw their employment contract and it included a reference to being nice to people. Like I’d sign something like that?
Toll booth collector intrigued me. It gives you a chance to meet lots of people without running the risk of ever establishing a real relationship. When you think about it, if you are looking for real change in your life, this is the gig you want.
I went through a brief wannabe-lumberjack stage. You get to be outdoors and you can wear the same shirt every day. Although, they do have a formal Friday? It would be fun to come home and tell my wife, “I got the axe at work today,” and not have her burst into tears.
Based on our recent trip, I am now certain I should have been a tour guide.
First of all, you don’t really have to know anything, because no one will dispute it, and no one will remember what you say, anyway. For example, our guide told us how Savannah was founded when the Pilgrims came over and … no, that’s not it. Actually, the Spanish missionaries arrived first … no, that doesn’t sound right. Did she say it was the Puritans who were looking for cranberries? Whatever.
I could have been an excellent tour bus driver, as well. I have no sense of direction, so there would be no disadvantage in my being geographically challenged. The people on the bus have no idea where they are going – that’s why they took a bus. They know nothing about the area, and that’s why they hired a tour guide. So if I did get lost (that’s a sure thing), I could make up some outrageous story about how in this very isolated area, hundreds of miles from food, water and shelter, three Catholic nuns saved the city of Savannah from the Spanish war ships by staying awake 72 straight hours to man the lighthouse with only those dried cranberries to eat.
See? I told you I’d be good at this.
I couldn’t be this imprecise in my present work. My bosses at WISH-TV and my newspaper publishers have this thing about my being “factual.” The last 40 years would have been so much more pleasant without that accuracy monkey on my back.
I might miss being on TV if I change career tracks, but the lure of a microphone and a captive audience moving at 45 miles per hour would be tough for me to turn down.
And here’s the best part: I could tell the same jokes three times a day all year. And no one will know the difference.