Plan B

Okay, so we know that my plan of becoming a world-changing, secret-revealing journalist who would rather go to jail than naming my sources (read: fashion journalist in high heels with a fat salary), isn’t really working out. So I’ve decided to put together a back-up plan: When I grow up - Plan B.

  • Surgeon. If only I’d watched Grey’s Anatomy before I started studying, I wouldn’t have made such a silly choice of education, but instead just become a doctor. By now, I would’ve been four years into my degree, which means I could’ve probably done my own face lift.
  • Police woman. Officer Ramsberg has a pretty good sound to it, if you ask me. I would come in every morning, pop my police hat on and catch bad guys while slowly climbing the career ladder until I became Head of Interpol.
  • President. Of the world, obviously. Once I had completed the obvious tasks like ensuring world peace and saving the entire human population from poverty, I would make education free to everyone so we’d all grow up to be super clever and debt free. Then I would tell all jelly fish to leave the planet and go hang out somewhere else. I would force airlines to lower their prices, I’d forbid public whistling, and Human Decency would be a subject taught in schools world wide. Then I’d give Snowdon a call to tell him to come crash with me.
  • Sports Illustrated cover girl. Mum always told me to aim high.
  • Fire fighter. I’d love my job as a fire fighter. They probably even make good money. Although, I wouldn’t reeeaaally care about the money if my colleagues were a dozen strong men in uniforms? Not a hard call, that one. I’d work for free.

Got some good options there, I think. Looks like my life won’t be a failure after all.