I’ve finally found my dream job, again

I’m thinking of retiring from the column-writing game. I’ve been tempted to give it up only once before, when I learned that the American Tasting Institute (there really is such a place) has full-time employees who do nothing but taste stuff, then report on whether they like it. Near as I could tell at the time, it was the only job easier than writing a column.

Turns out there’s one easier still, and I’m thinking of applying.

The job? In-house human bed warmer, and no I am not kidding.

I would have to move to the United Kingdom (some folks call it England or Great Britain—the Queen should make up her mind on this one; the whole thing’s been ambiguous too long). That’s where three Holiday Inn hotels currently offer the service.

As I understand it, the human bed warmer climbs between the client’s frosty sheets and lies there until the temperature of the bed reaches 68-degrees, at which point he or she vacates the premises to be replaced by the hotel guest.

The article I read on the subject didn’t mention how long it took for the sheets to reach the proper temperature; I’m guessing that would depend on the size of the human bed warmer, her fat-to-lean ratio, and whether she was post-menopausal and experiencing hot flashes.

Whatever the case, this does not sound like a job for skinny young girls. I, on the other hand, would be perfect for the gig! Not only am I slightly fat, but I sport more body hair than your average wildebeest. According to at least one woman who should know, sleeping next to me is like curling up with a silverback mountain gorilla that’s been jogging through the rain forest in August. (Although the woman I’m thinking of may have been referring not to heat, but odor.)

Regardless, I’m sure human bed warmer is a job I could handle. Not only am I imminently qualified with regard to heat-producing potential, but there are few things I’m as good at as lying about all day. Why, Superbowl Sunday alone I maintained a prone position on the sofa for six straight hours and nobody was even paying me! I did it for free, fool that I am.

I could have lasted longer, but I had to get up for beer ingestion and release a couple times.

I also should mention on my resume that I fall asleep easily, but rarely stay asleep for more than a half-hour. So I could move from bed-to-bed ‘round the clock, never having to take a break. Thirty minutes of shuteye here, 30 minutes there; that’s all I’d ever need. A couple meal breaks throughout the evening and I could “work” indefinitely.

At just under 30 minutes per bed, I figure I could service nearly 50 beds in a 24 hour period. That’s a full day’s work in anybody’s book.

The only thing I can think of that might keep me from fulfilling my new career dreams is this: I don’t wear pajamas. Never have, never will.

This, I’ll admit, could be a concern for some of the hotel’s more fastidious guests. It could also make my trips from room-to-room, um, interesting, though I suppose I could throw on a robe while traversing the hallways, if management insisted.

I could probably write more on this topic, but if I’m ever going to land the job, I should probably get down to some serious training. Zzzzz.

More Reality Check online at http://mtrealitycheck.blogspot.com or www.mlive.com. Email Mike Taylor at mtaylor325@gmail.com.