Saturday December 20, 2008
BS and make a living
Stories by LOUISA LIM
Everyone bullsh*ts once in a while, but what happens when you make a career out of it? More than you can ever imagine, says one book.
Here’s a confession: some feng shui masters are not to be trusted.
I know because my uncle was one. To gauge the luck of a place, he’d put baby terrapins on the floor of the porch. And when they scuttled randomly in different directions due to the hot sun, he would say that the areas in which they were headed needed to be spiritually cleansed.
Stranger still, his customers actually believed him, despite the questionable nature of his divination techniques. Not only that, they rewarded him handsomely for “delivering them from evil”.
There are real estate agents who are able to make people believe that each shack is a bungalow and every dilapidated pile of steaming junk a diamond in the rough, says Stanley Bing in his book. — (This picture is meant as illustration.) AP PHOTO But it wasn’t that my uncle was a bad person (he wouldn’t hurt a fly), he was just, well, resourceful. However, upon realising that he wasn’t going to become Malaysia’s next Lillian Too, he made a career change and is now an insurance agent.
If the author of 100 Bullsh*t Jobs . . . And How To Get Them, Stanley Bing, had heard about my uncle’s exploits, it would’ve made his day.
Bing — an ultra senior executive in a multinational corporation and part-time columnist for Fortune magazine — has penned the book in hopes of shedding light on the art of bullsh*tting to secure a pleasant, lucrative employment.
Far from being demeaning, “bullsh*t jobs” are actually professions in which the money’s easy and the workload is virtually close to zero. Their professions are also “highly respected, because nobody really knows what they do”. Rather than deceiving others by fabricating lies, these people cleverly manipulate half-truths to their advantage.
Famous examples include politicians, advertising executives and, of course, lawyers, who, in Bing’s book, are the masters of “quality” bullsh*t, or mindful bullsh*tting to exploit the legal system to their advantage.
Lawyer Fahri Azzat, 33, is understandably troubled by this stereotype.
Can you tell the pretenders from the genuine article? (Mike Myers in The Love Guru) “The biggest misconception about lawyers are that they are liars, cheats or swindlers,” he says. “The number of lawyer jokes is astounding, and everyone wants to tell theirs the moment I tell them I’m a lawyer.
“I’m sad because it is no fun to have one’s job disparaged, especially such a noble one that has been given a poor impression by some of its more notorious practitioners.”
To be fair, there are many other bullsh*t jobs out there that don’t get the credit they deserve, mainly because the baloney in them isn’t always so apparent.
In Bing’s estimation, there are 100, including more esteemed ones like The Vice President of the United States (“very little responsibilities”), economist (“writes so obliquely that no matter what happens in reality, the theories he offers can never be called wrong”), or anything Emeritus (“stay vertical for at least three hours a day”). In mine, there are 100, and then some.
Here are just some of the examples that we both agree on in no particular order, and a few words from those behind them.
Life coach
“There will always be room for people who want to ‘help’ others by seizing control of them,” writes Bing solemnly.
“You get to boss people around in the name of therapy . . . in ways that you think are good for them.”
However, life coach Sharmini Hansen, 34, whose main clients consist mostly of people from the middle- and upper-management, says that it’s about “walking the talk, or you’ll just end up a preacher”.
By charging RM350 an hour to do this, Hansen earns a five-digit salary a month. This figure is expected to grow as she débuts her own radio show, and opens her own coaching franchise for kids. She’s also in the midst of creating a TV programme, starring herself.
The best thing about her job?
“Sometimes, it’s like a friendly chat with a friend. All you have to do is sit down and listen over a cup of coffee.”
Critic
Bing believes that the reason these guys are so hateful is because they live in poverty, compared to the artists whose work they pass judgement on. Yet this does not affect the credibility of their opinions, which are of paramount importance to the outside world.
Local music critic Robin Banks, 39, agrees: “The money’s not good, but I’m doing this because music’s my passion. I hate also fence-sitters who are afraid to fully critique something. You either like it or you don’t — there are no two-ways about it.”
Banks’ zealousness has made him a recent target of Fann Wong fans, who have e-mailed to call him an “idiot”.
He also leaves a trail of shattered relationships wherever he goes, because “in this country, people aren’t very open to criticism”.
But far from being undeterred, Banks says that these reactions are the reason he keeps marshalling on.
“It’s when you ignite such a response from others that you know you’re doing your job well. And to do your job well, you need a combination of thick skin, sense of humour, laissez-faire attitude to money and a masochistic streak.”
Personal publicist
Jessica C., 25, says her lifelong ambition is to be a beach bum. However, she settled for a job as a publicist-cum-personal assistant for a local starlet, while waiting for her dream to materialise.
“I suppose being a PA is quite interesting too, because I got to work closely with someone I admired for some time,” she says.
“The best part about my job was being able to accompany her to far-flung countries like Japan and Denmark on publicity trips.”
The downside?
“Well, I was in charge of the dirty work, while she oversaw more important projects. I paid her bills, settled her summonses, shopped for friends’ gifts, and all the other stuff. I handled all the media enquiries as well,” explains Jessica. “There was no such thing as saying ‘No’.”
In Bing’s opinion, publicists are responsible for a lot more, like protecting celebrities from themselves and others, while creating an illusion of friendship and loyalty with people who aren’t very good with either.
But Jessica vehemently denies that the starlet is a mean witch, or that their friendship is a sham.
“I quit because there was no time for myself or my friends. And not because I hated her for making me slave away 24/7.”
Real estate agent
“I am not a salesman,” Ronnie Hoi, 41, declares, emphasising each syllable over the phone.
“Salesmen don’t earn RM5,000 to RM50,000 in an economic downturn.”
Be that as it may, Bing insists in his book that real estate agents are just as skilled in the BS department as salesmen are because their job essentially revolves around “bullsh*tting people about the value of the home they’re thinking of buying by making each shack a bungalow, every dilapidated pile of steaming junk a diamond in the rough.
“My clients aren’t stupid,” Hoi objects. “They know what they want, even before they see me. As long as you’re frank, knowledgeable and courteous, you can sell anything. There will always be potential property buyers around.”
But what if the house is haunted?
“You don’t tell them,” Ronnie says. “Unless they ask, that is. Well, I’m not exactly lying, am I?”
Pet groomer
Although pet groomers aren’t on Bing’s list, aesthetic consultants are because they are responsible for “enabling clients to look completely individual and, at the same time, totally predictable”.
Pet groomers do the same for pets, but seeing as how animals don’t give two hoots about their appearances, a pet groomer is — in my opinion — the granddaddy of all BS jobs.
“Grooming these days aren’t just limited to the wash and cut anymore,” says Janine Lo, 29, a professional dog groomer by trade.
“We have a range of fur dyes so owners can have the pink poodle they always desired. And then there’s the salt baths, mud baths, aromatherapy treatments . . . it’s all part of the doggy spa experience.”
Aspiring dog groomers are in for a treat, because, let’s face it, how hard can training be?
“There’s a pet grooming school that you can go to for a few months, but honestly speaking, anyone can be a dog groomer,” Lo smirks.
“You just need a little creativity when it comes to doggy hairstyles and learn how to hold a squirming pooch down when you’re about to do something crazy to him like dyeing his hair. Or maybe I’m just gifted.”
Not only that, this billion-dollar industry remains relatively untapped in Malaysia, with many potential clients that are wealthy and, not to mention, a little kooky.
“They’re willing to pay up to RM200 for a salt bath . . . for their dogs,” Lo reveals.
Baloney for big bucks
If none of the career options mentioned strike your fancy, remember there are a lot more out there to choose from! Stanley Bing even says that you can transform your job into a BS job with a little pluck, luck, preservation and a good, healthy dose of bull.
Here are a few extras for that inspiration:
Cold caller: Strong index finger and tolerance for being sworn at and hung up on. To be one, merely answer a want ad or just walk in. People may hate you, but at least you don’t have to dress up for work (or dress up at all, if you work from home) and the commission is yummy.
Headhunter: The skills required for this job is debatable, but, essentially, all you need to do is find a person to fill that very important position. The upside? You have big, formerly successful people come to you on their knees, begging for a job.
Wine industry professional: Make the frivolous sound extremely pompous and illogical, like: “Dark chocolate and plum fruits court a deceptive play of ripe tannins. This is a wine of admirable balance and poise blah blah blah”.
The upside? Drink all the time and see yourself as a connoisseur, not a stumblebum.
Bouncer: Bouncers are termed “Velvet Rope Nazis” in the book for a good reason. All you need are big muscles, strong backbone, willingness to follow orders and a feeling of contempt for people who don’t belong in a club. Your nightly duty consists of staring down people outraged at being denied entry.
Consultant: Fly in. Get your orders. Receive validation from senior officer — one that allows you to push people around a little bit. Schedule meetings in which people are forced to talk about things they probably would rather not. And more.
Personal trainer: Must know a series of exercises and be able to teach them to others; have loud, commanding voice to scream at people and make them push themselves to the limit; look good in weird spandex outfits so that misshapen, sad people or celebrities want to look like you, not like themselves. 100 Bullsh*t Jobs . . . And How To Get Them by Stanley Bing is priced at RM55.90 and available at most leading bookstores.
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