My dream job is one in which I feel challenged. I would need to feel happy. I would need to feel useful. I would need to feel creative and I would need to feel rewarded.

 

It would be nice if the reward was a decent paycheck. But the reward would mostly need to be that there was a purpose – something was being answered – a need was being fulfilled. Truly, it’s necessary that a dream job provide enough revenue for the basics: a house, a small yard, a well-fed spouse and children, and enough money to pay for any music lesson or sports team participation that their young hearts would whisper.

 

If I really think about it, I suppose my dream job would above all need to inspire. This life is too big and our minds are too creative for us to get trapped in the nine-to-fiver. Well, it is a nice security blanket when you’re married to your job. However, it can become a prison that limits true expressions and prevents a bosom filled with a beating heart from bounding to places resulting only in smiles. Man is that he may find joy. The purpose of life is happiness.

 

My dream job would not be one in which the only way to the top is being more ruthless than others. I take no joy in battling wits (unless it’s for a laugh), playing the interoffice political game and so on. I am not a fan of the current Donald Trump mode of doing whatever it takes to win. I will not cheat. I will not lie. I will not...

 

My dream job would be solely in the realm of inspiration. There’s the inspiration of a warm smile. There’s the warmth of an honest lock of the eyes. There’s the happiness of pumping each other up to feel something bigger. The task at hand would be fun. There would be no gossip. There would be no me. There only would be a hard-work ethic whose real purpose would be happiness. Happiness in working hard, happiness in doing a job well, happiness in sharing the happiness.