Thanks to this rather insipid Pit thread on coffehouse elitism some of my gray matter will not be forevermore clogged with the knowledge that the guy who pours up your fancy-schmancy coffee order is a “barista”.
I’ve become fascinated by this charmingly pretentious job title.
I want one.
I’m a chemical engineer in the lubricants industry. I’d considered “engineero” but it just doesn’t zing. Perhaps “lubricatrix”, were I a female lube engineer. Alas, no.
I’ll keep workin’ on my new job title. Come, join in the fun: what would your job title be if you wanted to convey your sneering contempt for the lesser mortals grubbing along at their little jobs?
When we were making up business cards for me because I was going to meet with more clients, my dad said we had to come up with a title for me. I’m technically the Vice President, but most people don’t look at my pink, Britney Spears-listening-to-self as an authority figure. So I pondered. He said I could pick whatever I wanted, just to tell the printer.
I came up with “Grand Poobah of Taxation and Awesome.”
He nixed that idea. Jerk.
He decided on Client Services Representative. That’s a nice way of saying secretary.
Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. I am your friendly neighborhood Universe Investigator*, at your service.
*Physicist. Come to think of it, we don’t need to inflate our job titles. Nuclear Physicist. Plasma physicist. Quantum physicist - or, as I like to say, Quantum Mechanic. All of these are already awe-inspiring. Unlike most disciplines, the public still fears anyone in a white lab coat.
Meh. Not impressed much.
Does that make me the “Safety Net for the Grand Poobah of Taxation and Awesome” or “Mr. Fixit” or “He Who Shall Remain Unnamed, for He Is Bad-Ass and Is Above the Law”.
The last one might be going too far, though.
I was a collection system analyst (sewer cleaner).
I’m a freight train conductor now but I guess I could be called a rail guide. Some of the occupations my own company lists me as are: Traveling shifter at road rates, brakeman, utility man, pilot, crew member, foreman, switchman, conductor…but the one listed in the occupations code that I like the most is…Hump Foreman. I want to be one of those.
Grand master of the big black thumping machine in the corner that will eat your firstborn should you ever disobey.
(It’s big, archaic, weighs over two tons and I’m one of the few people on the job that knows what it does, and one of the very few who understands how it works. It’s got more knobs than a bukkake festival and so many dials and buttons that I’m convinced there’s an “consume baby” function on the thing somewhere.)