A recent report highlighted on Yahoo News* listed dirty jobs that pay well.
Among the jobs that most likely require a hot shower afterward are:
- Veterinarian (dog poop)
- Waste management engineer (everything down the toilet)
- Trauma surgeon (blood, guts, poop)
- Coroner (dead people, plus guts, blood, poop)
- Certified nurse midwife (blood, guts, placentas, poop)
- Podiatrist (foot fungus)
- Oil drill worker (not sure about this one, just oily I guess)
- Gastroenterologist (more of the same, except for the oil)
Most of these jobs require a substantial amount of education, except the oil drill worker. All of them require a cast-iron stomach and nerves of steel, which is a fancy way of saying you must control your own bodily fluids while performing your job.
And it looks like they pay fairly well, too. At the day’s end, you can scrub from your hands the bodily fluids, change your shoes, and head to the bank with your big, fat paycheck.
So I was wondering if paid well enough, could I do any of these jobs?
Could I keep track of the goings on in a waste-water treatment plant, making sure the poop and paper separated from the water?
Could I grasp a fungus-ridden foot in my hands and scrape it for a sample?
Could I slice open a dead body and dig out the contents, weigh and measure each organ lovingly as if they were baby birds?
No, no and most certainly not.
I watched an autopsy once. As I stood by the glass window in the public viewing area, I wondered why the body of a young man with curly black hair still had a red bandana tied to its head? Wouldn’t they have had the sense to remove it? Then my ears began to ring and my knees grew weak. The Rice Krispies I had for breakfast started to churn in my stomach.
It wasn’t a red bandana on his head. It was the underside of the skin flap pulled back to cut open his skull. Silly me.
I put on my brave face, but inside, I couldn’t wait to get away from that cold, antiseptic place that smelled oddly like a butcher shop.
So you can keep your scaly feet, your severed limbs, your spurting oil wells and exploding colons. I’ll take the simple road, the one that pays in small change but smells far more like a bakery.