Do I stay or do I go

I’ve always had great admiration for people who have more than one skill set they can make a living with. For example, my late, great friend George Roux was an art director, illustrator, commercial director and photographer. And he was equally adept at all of them. Damn him.

The problem is, the only thing I can really do is write. And depending on who you talk to, or if you've followed this blog for any length of time, even that's a little shaky.

Like so many of my colleagues, I occasionally entertain the idea of leaving advertising and moving on to a new challenge. Usually during status meetings, listening to account planners giving their insights or staff meetings where management tells everyone how great the new open office seating will be.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s not that copywriting hasn’t been good to me or isn’t challenging, but occasionally a restlessness sets in and I start thinking there might be something else that would be even more rewarding. It’s the same way I felt about my high school girlfriend.

Because there isn't much money in bingeing Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, The Americans and House Of Cards, I started thinking about other things to do besides what I’m doing.

Here’s a partial list:

Crowd Estimator

I’ve always been good with numbers. I figure I could be that guy they cut to on the local news at concerts or sporting events. “Jeff, that looks like quite a gathering at the stadium tonight.” “That’s right Bill, I’d say there’s about 15,000 people here for the big show.” Then I’d get in the car and go home. Good gig.

Tire Store owner

I love tire stores. That new rubber smell, the S, T, H, V, ZR, W and Y speed ratings (note to Prius owners: S is all you need). What’s not to like about a job where you can toss around words like lug nuts and lateral run out (that's shimmy to you civilians). Not to mention the go-to jokes about being "under pressure" all the time. BAM! I’ll be here all week.

Fortune Cookie Writer

Here’s a gig that capitalizes on experience I already have—always a good thing. Play to my strength. Also, it’s one sentence at a time. That works well for me. Just a quick zinger, something uplifting, hopeful and funny in six or seven words. Besides, my wife used to be VP of Marketing for Panda Express. I already speak fortune cookie.

Ticket Taker

Whenever the discussion turns to creating jobs, this is one I always think of. Unnecessary and easy (did I use the high school girlfriend joke yet?), I’d be great at this. Movie theaters, Broadway theaters or even parking lots, I’d take the tickets with flair and a smile. There’s really not a lot of time for conversation since everyone’s in a hurry, which is fine by me. If you’ve ever been with me in an elevator, you know sometimes conversation is the last thing I want.

Couples picture taker

This one seems obvious, and yet you don't see a lot of them. Ok, you know when you're with your significant other at Disneyland, a concert, on vacation or at a restaurant, and you take either bad selfies or shots of the two of you individually? I'd be the guy wearing the resort uniform, just walking the grounds looking for people doing that and then saying, "I'll take that for you." One or two clicks, and I'm off to save the next vacation memory. I'd meet people, get exercise, learn about all sorts of photographic equipment and probably have a good tan at the end of it all.

You may have noticed the one alternative career choice not on the list is professional blogger. There are a couple of reasons for that.

First, I know for a fact there's no money in it. And second, have you read this blog lately?

Moving apps

This year, I jumped on the Apple train—again—and ponied up for the iPhone6s Plus. I’d had an iPhone5 for years, but after having to hold its teeny, tiny 4-inch screen near the tip of my nose to watch one too many binges of Breaking Bad and House Of Cards, I decided to trade up to the 6s Plus and its ginormous 5.5-inch screen.

I’ve had apartments smaller than this phone. The good news is all my worrying about not being able to text one-handed, fitting it in my jean pockets (thank God I don’t wear skinny jeans – no one needs to see that) and it not fitting in the cupholder in my car proved to be unfounded.

It only took one week and it was like I’d always been using it. In fact, in the same way my German Shepherd Max - the world’s greatest dog - looked huge at the beginning but doesn't anymore, the 6s Plus doesn’t look big to me unless I put an older iPhone next to it. Max also looks huge no matter what phone is next to him.

So here’s the thing: over the holiday weekend, with a little down time on my hands while I was in between slices of pumpkin pie, I decided I'd take a shot at organizing the bazillion app icons camping out wherever they damn well pleased across five big screens on my phone.

Jumping into action, and by that I mean leaning back in the big reading chair with iPhone in hand, I quickly and cagily figured out my plan of attack. I put travel apps in a folder named Travel. Health apps in a folder named Health. Money and banking apps in a folder named Finances. See where I’m going here?

At the end of it though, I still had a considerable number of orphan apps – including iSamJackson (“Get these motherf#%&ing snakes off this motherf#%&ing plane!"), Police Siren (woooooo and wahhh woooo wahhhh woooo), Basic Spanish (no bueno) and AwesomeFacts (not awesome, not all facts) – that I hardly ever use.

And by hardly I mean never.

They, along with many others, now all reside in one folder appropriately labeled Rarely Used Apps. By doing that I picked up two full screens worth of real estate. Now it’s just a matter of getting in the habit of finding apps that were on screen four on screen one. First world problems and all that.

I love the fact Apple iOS lets me create folders for my apps and clear up the screens, although I have to say I'm not entirely trusting of their motives. I mean, now that I have those two extra screens available, there's only one thing to do with them.

More apps.

Throw the book at 'em

Now that most television shows have aired their season finales, the question is what do I do with all the extra time I'll have on my hands.

There are always the go-to programs like a 6th binge of Breaking Bad, or a 2nd binge of House Of Cards. There are shows I never made time for like Treme and Shameless.

But I was thinking maybe it's time to tackle a more intellectual pursuit. Reading. Schopenhauer once said, "We buy books because we believe we're buying the time to read them." If that's true, I've bought myself a lot of time.

On the nightstand next to my side of the bed, which with a wife and two dogs is getting increasingly smaller by the minute, is no less than 27 unread books. I bought every one of them with the intention of cracking it open when I got home from Barnes & Noble.

And yes, I still buy books and I still go to bookstores. Never read a book on an e-reader, never will.

Here's the thing: I go on book jags. I don't read one for a while, then I plow through six or seven in a row. Even when I'm short on time, when I'm on one of the jags I make a point of reading a chapter when I wake up and one before I go to sleep.

Admittedly it requires discipline. Which explains the giant stack of unread books by the bed.

But I've been at a place for a while where not only do I know how Walt and Jessie wind up, I also know every event, character and line of dialogue that gets them there. So it's time to read.

Maybe I'll start with Walt Whitman's Leaves Of Grass, the collection of poems Hank was reading in Gliding Over All, the eighth episode of the fifth season of Breaking Bad. The one where he's on the toilet when he discovers Walt is actually Heisenberg.

Alright, maybe one more binge and then I'll get started on the books.

Don't ask: Writing a letter for you

It's been awhile since I've added to my wildly popular Don't Ask series of posts. If you read this blog with any regularity - and if you do you really should try to get out to a bookstore or a library - you know I've already covered moving, picking people up at the airport, sharing my food, loaning you money and sharing my hotel room.

Sharing seems to be something I'm not very fond of. I'm an only child. Does it show?

Anyway, I get asked by a lot of friends and family to write letters for them. Letters of recommendation, letters complaining to a company about someone or some slight they think they've been on the receiving end of, resume cover letters, as well as the resume itself.

I know why they ask. I'm a writer. I do it for a living, and I'm not bad at it. But when I'm done writing all day for my job, I don't even want to write things for myself, much less you, when I get home.

I just want to binge Breaking Bad or House of Cards again.

I do appreciate the compliment of you asking. That you think my words would get better results than yours, or would communicate what you want to say more clearly. Which no doubt they would - I mentioned I was good at this, right?

Anyway, there's no secret to getting results. Address your grievance to the CEO, not to the underlings. Use spellcheck. And say what you need to say without trying to be fancy or funny. Simple advice, no?

You might want to write it down.

Just don't ask me to do it for you.