Something today made me remember my time at junior high, way back in the last century. One day in class, the teacher gave us a sort of personality test. There was only one question.

Which job would you rather have? a) Tollbooth clerk; b) Construction Flagger, or c) Pickle Taster.

(I have no idea how they came up with this list, by the way. What happened to ‘any child can become President’, which people still believed in those days? Or how about, I don’t know, lawyer? Doctor? Or for that matter, Indian chief?)

Anyway, much to my surprise, the most popular job was tollbooth clerk. I mean, really? Sitting in an office is bad enough, but being cooped up in one of those little booths all day? You would at least get to take people’s money (actual cash, in those days), but it seemed to me like a good way to go nuts slowly.

The next most chosen job was construction flagger. Well, that wouldn’t be as bad–at least you’d get to move around a bit and get some fresh air (though there would be winter work, too, and lots of exhaust fumes).

Only I, and one of the girls in the class, chose pickle taster. This is almost impossible to comprehend. It was the one job that promised scope and variety. One day you could be tossing a bunch of gherkins with a contemptuous review, like Colonel Sanders visiting a troubled Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet, the next you might discover a new taste sensation. You could steer the industry toward lacto-fermentation rather than sousing things in vinegar, suggest new recipes–herbs, hot peppers, the possibilities are endless…not to mention that you can pickle almost anything: you wouldn’t even have to nibble on cucumbers all day.

Becoming a pickle whisperer could make a real difference in people’s lives.

Well. Today it occurred to me, having grown more cynical with the years, that maybe this survey was really no different from any other pop quiz you’d get, where how you did would depend on how well you knew the materials covered in class. Given how public school was conceived and run, even back in those days, wouldn’t kids be expected to opt for a safe job working for the government? Along with a few willing to work at the jobs that were left for private industry. The teacher might have reviewed the results of the test and nodded in satisfaction, concluding that the system was working as designed.

In this view, the pickle tasting job would be just be one of those c) d) or e) options on a multiple choice test to entrap the unwary. Statistically insignificant.

Of course, there is another possibility: I, and that girl whose name I unfortunately can’t remember, might just have been genuinely odd people. In support of that interpretation, I did decide to become an author.