Jobs that don't even exist yet

In our unbounded sense of techno-optimism, we imagine a future in which our kids do fascinating and fulfilling jobs - many of which haven't been invented yet. Programming robots, piloting spaceships to the moon, designing faster-than-light personal transporters, exploring strange new worlds and boldly splitting infinitives that no one has split before.

And our parents thought this of our futures too - we teens of the 80s - birthday parties on the moon, flying DeLorians and cocktail parties in orbit, complete with the susurration of erudite conversation and one piece nylon body suits over our well-toned frames.

The reality, unfortunately, is that they were half right. There are indeed a multitude of jobs for us now that no-one, in 1982, could have imagined possible. Not because they couldn't envisage that kind of technological advance but because they couldn't possibly conceive of anyone getting paid for that kind of pointlessness.

There must be, at a firmly earth-bound cocktail party somewhere, people who won't talk about what they do because the answer to the standard small-talk question is "I write click bait lists. I really wanted to be a journalist but there are no newspaper jobs anymore so I have a daily quota of three Top 10 lists to complete. Oh, and a requirement for a weekly synonym for 'Will leave you breathless'".

Relieved to be out of the spotlight of judgement - shone by people whose meaningful career means that their gravestone might read something other than 'he ate and excreted' - are the people who write workplace health and safety guidelines; doing so in the sure and certain knowledge that they will sit on file, never to be read again by human eyes and only brought out and waved around by management, when there's an accident, as a prop to the line "They were warned".

Proud mums and dads, glowing as their child heads off into the world armed with their first-class high school results and a future hopefully burdened by having to carry the letters LLB* after their names forever, are now reduced to watching in futile desperation as their progeny don the wig, haul themselves to their hind legs and argue for Apple's proprietary rights to own a particular gradient of curve on their app icons or a narrowly defined length of left-click.

Aspiring Austenses, Dickenses and Somerset-Maughmanses, empowered by the internet to share the genius of their vision with the entire English-speaking planet, are keeping their heads above the flood of self-published Amazon e-books by carefully crafting remarks for judges on talent shows to utter as if the cutting wit and bon mot just occurred to them.

And change management..

In the meanwhile, the chances of us actually getting a job - even one of these future imperfect specimens - are materially reduced by the fact that Big Brother knows all and forgets nothing:

http://taleofanidiot.blogspot.com.au/2014/07/the-tragic-death-of-forgetfulness.html

The good news for parents of girls, of course, is that there will always be work for young women with well proportioned faces and out of proportioned breasts if they are keen to display these assets to the world.

We can all rest peacefully tonight.

Notes: LLB is the traditional abbreviation for a law degree in Australia. Lawyers that appear in court in Australia (barristers) wear a wig in court.

Liff in the summer school holidays

Achfary (n) - The mythical creature that a four year old will try to convince you flew in through the window and poured honey all over the couch before exiting stage left, with ne'er a footprint or twinkle of magic dust.

Allnabad (expl) - The only phrase the summer holidays at home parent can manage to croak out when their partner comes home and asks how their day went.

Bargrennan (n) - the low level bickering that starts over the breakfast table and augurs particularly badly for the coming day.

Bridge of Gaur (n) - What the boys are pretending they're making the youngest child walk across in the backyard; and about which you officially want to know nothing.

Craigs (The)  (n pl) - Christmas decorations and other paraphernalia that you now have to pack away in a box somewhere for next year.

Dinnet (n) The automatic denial of guilt issued by a child, when you but call their name, that tells you that further investigation is necessary.

Forgandenny (n) The punishment of removing a tablet or other electronic device that you know you should impose for some misdemeanour but which you know will backfire because letting them play on their tablets is the only thing that will get you a half hour's peace during the day to drink a whole cup of coffee.

Gatehouse of Fleet (n) - chests of drawers, toys, broomsticks and other assorted objects arranged as a barricade to prevent that idiot from getting into my bedroom and touching my stuff.

Invershin (n) - An injury inflicted by a tomintoul (q.v.) which is probably going to need a visit to the ED and should certainly result in a minimum 24 hour confiscation of all electronic devices (xref Forgandenny)

Overscaig (n) - The set of craigs (q.v.) that, despite your thoroughness in checking under the couch, behind the fridge and in the toilet cistern, have missed being packed away. And you've just sealed the box and put it on the top shelf in the garage

Ramscraigs (n pl) - Craigs (q.v.) that have been damaged by attempting to shove them into the 1cm gap in the side of the craig box so that you don't have to actually re-open the box and have all that tinsel jump back out at you like a striking viper.

Suisnish (n) - The feeling you get when you realise the kids, despite instructions, did not remove everything from their school bags before Christmas and it's now January 23.

Tomintoul (n) - any everyday household object or appliance transformed into a weapon with which to beat your stupid brother.

Troon (n) The TV show that, despite all your best start-of-summer intentions, you put on as a form of riot control when the dry-bulb temperature outside is 35C and the apparent temperature in the house is approaching boiling point.

Wanlockhead (n) - what the bargrennan (q.v.) has evolved into by morning tea time.