I’ve always been drawn to tales of international intrigue and adventure. Movies about espionage (as long as they’re good) and even domestic criminal activity are one of my favorite genres of movie: living vicariously at its finest, ladies and gents.
So naturally, I’ve fallen in love with Homeland in an absence of any more Game of Thrones episodes until March (why, HBO, why?).
A bi-polar female acting as an intelligence operator during this oh-so-explosive current international atmosphere of terrorists and Middle Eastern conflict. This is a recipe for a show Natalie can’t stop watching. See, I also enjoy shows and movies with strong female leads – Netflix told me so.
I think my interest in spy movies and political thrillers puzzles my husband, who can take-or-leave this type of programming. The appearance of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy on our Netflix queue and my preoccupation with The Bourne Identity series sort of confuses him. After all, I’m more interested in attending a museum exhibit than a sporting event, so I’m not really that type of girl.
Not that I fit any type at all, or even believe in types. But that’s a story for another blog post.
In any case, I’ve actually considered a career in the FBI or the CIA based solely on my fascination with this form of entertainment (really though, there isn’t a type of career I haven’t considered).
Why haven’t I pursued it? Well, readers, because I would totally suck at it, and I just read an article confirming what I always knew in my heart.
Aside from my emotional instabilities, which wouldn’t let me get past the background check stage of the interview process – alcoholic with depressive tendencies and a proclivity for frequent uncontrollable outbursts of tears – I possess none of the character traits of a good agent. In fact, my personality mirrors the exact opposite of what makes a successful CIA operative. See the below responses to the traits mentioned in the article by Vaughn Sherman:
- I am the least observant person on the face of the planet. This makes me the type of person that has lived in an area for several years, and never noticed that the ugly fluorescent blue building on 7th Street is a laundromat until one day last week when it popped out at me for no discernible reason. Osama Bin Laden himself could be resurrected from the dead, cross my path, bump my shoulder and light up a rocket launcher and I would fail to notice because I’m distracted by sheer volume of useless thinking that goes on in my head. What if I just went out and bought a flying squirrel for a pet? Would Mike get made at me? Would Rusty eat it? Would Mimi eat it? Should I instead write a story about a girl who buys a flying squirrel and then HER pet eats it? How did patriarchy start, anyway? Etc., etc.
- My interpersonal skills are lacking. I especially have trouble generating relationships out of thin air, which I guess is the method of making valuable contacts and garnering helpful information from total strangers. Suaveness does not come naturally to me. Think of James Bond. Got it? Okay, now, think of the antithesis of James Bond. Got it? Because the latter would be me.
- Tenacity. Ah, a virtue I only display when reading books and discussing food. Or trying to get my way when I really want something. Wait, on second thought, maybe I’m more tenacious than I thought…
- Zero tolerance for ambiguity. I am on a need-to-know basis with everything.
- I have all the stamina of a baby mayfly.
The only quality I do have, according to Mr. Sherman, is chutzpah. It takes a lot of chutzpah, for example, to publicly admit all the reasons why you suck at life in writing on the internet, which makes it, like, twice as public. So maybe I won’t make a brilliant intelligence operative, but I will damn well tell you all the reasons why.
What is your secret fantasy career that you know you’d be awful at?
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