The Cynical Career Counsellor Explains Your Future as a

Real Estate Agent
Really kid--I thought you were smarter than... Never mind. Let's see--if you become a real estate agent you'll have to take some classes and you'll have to go a year without any other job besides real estate to get your license. Problem is, it will be you and a bunch of middle aged housewives who are doing it because they're bored. Your friends are kids your age--they don't have houses to sell, and they don't have money to buy houses. The middle aged housewives will go to tea with their friends and listings will fall into their fat, overprivileged laps.

First you'll work for some dick of a boss who'll make sure you get all the crappiest listings in the bad part of town. Eventually, when you get a little better at it, you'll start to schmooze with all the professionals--you'll join the golf club you can't afford, and buy a car beyond your budget. Your wife will want designer clothes and a new SUV and to send your kids to private school. You'll start playing golf more during the day and drinking three martinis with lunch. You'll hang around the golf clubhouse with doctors and lawyers, and pretend they think you're a professional just like they are. They don't--notice they don't invite you to parties at their houses.

Soon there's a cute young thing training in your agency--you agree to share listings with her, and to make sure you keep working to help her succeed, she flirts with you and before you know it, you're having an affair--it's easy because nobody knows where you're supposed to be at any time of the day. Your wife finds out, and divorces you--suing you so she can live in the custom she's used to--but you never could afford. Soon you're living in a trailer because all your commissions are being eaten up by alimony and you're drinking way too much and you have a heart attack because of stress and the young cute agent has a pile of her listings she's keeps getting because her picture on the ads looks way more appealing than yours.

Your kids are embarassed by you and your drunkard's face and your pathetic trailer. They avoid you. Eventually you start messing up deals and lose your license and desperate for cash, you start schilling for shady Mexican timeshare deals. You either die of a heart attack or put a gun in your mouth by the time you're 55.

By the way, did I ever tell you I tried my hand at real estate when I was younger...?