Okay, Here's the Plan

I've always wanted a job where I showed up for about five minutes on a Sunday evening. During that five minutes, I would be asked to bitch about some aspect of life; preferably, I would bemoan the passing of time and be unreasonably pissed off about the ways of the young people. My appearance wouldn't matter at all, so I could grow my eyebrows out to inhuman and unwieldy proportions. This job exists, people, and he's going to retire sooner or later. I'm preparing my resume.