People always ask me “What would you do if you weren’t a copywriter?” I always tell them the same thing: I’d be a janitor. No, I’m fucking dead serious. I would be an amazing janitor. Granted, I’d have to get past my aversion to dirt and scum. But once I did, look out. I’d be the best damn janitor in the world.
I wouldn’t let success go to my head, though. Despite thousands of job offers from huge corporations requesting me to head their janitorial staff, I’d keep a humble job at the local middle school. Every morning, people would walk down the freshly mopped hallway and inhale this wonderful aroma. It wouldn’t smell overly lemony or too piney. It would just have this fresh scent, you know? A scent that was somehow familiar, but impossible to put a finger on.
At the International Janitorial Awards, I would receive the Golden Mop-N-Bucket in every category. Of course, right now, the IJAs don’t even exist, but someone would create them just to honor my achievements.
Envious janitors from all over would try to discover my secret. Procter and Gamble would offer me ten million dollars in exchange for my formula. I would refuse. Several times a year, someone would break into my storage room and steal all my cleaning supplies to have them analyzed. But the lab results would always be the same: nothing unusual.
And it would go on like that for over forty years. Then, on my deathbed, I would ask my son to come closer, closer, closer. And once his ear was almost crushing my mouth, I’d weakly whisper the secret of my success: “S-s-smooth Mint Ssscope. *cough* Just a capful into the cleaning *wheeze* solution. And don’t use the fucking store brand. It ain’t the same stuff.” And then I’d say something about seeing a bright light and my dog Spotty waiting for me there, even though I never had a dog named Spotty. And my son would be like, “Yeah, dad, whatever,” since he was only 13 and a rebellious little prick. But that’s what I get for having a baby at 73. Who the fuck did I think I was, Tony Randall?
Anyhow, that’s what I’d do. If I wasn’t a copywriter.
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