Consider the best jobs known to man, and some careers immediately come to mind: rock star, gynecologist, workers' compensation semi-retiree. But each has significant drawbacks. Rockers have a short shelf life, especially if we're talking about kidneys. I had the pleasure of meeting Dio once, and describing him as "crusty" is a huge understatement. Gynecology would be fun if you were a vagina doctor to the stars, but one must assume that many regular OBGYN clients are aging, chubby women with less than satisfactory genital hygiene. The workers' comp gig sounds nice, if your payouts are sufficient, you have no desire ever to get a real job, and you don't mind the stigma of being labeled a "welfare queen" (unless, of course, you are a banker welfare bitch with a billion dollar government check, in which case you are a hero of the American capitalist system). No, the highest job satisfaction lies within a small niche industry misunderstood by the masses: sperm donors.
Even if your mind, body, and lineage are up to the task, your balls still have to hold their own. A few dribbles of unmotivated jizz won't earn you the big paycheck. Sperm donation is not, as depicted in Hollywood, a frivolous or one-off business supplied by the homeless, broke, vacationing students in a madcap adventure, or women who just performed fellatio but refused to swallow. As lesbian couples are charged dearly for a turkey baster worth of semen, the quality of the seed must reflect the pricing.
If the initial test…errr… donation is adequate (more on this later), the donor in question is first subjected to a rigorous written application, which delves deeply into private issues, such as family, racial history, education, and drug use. In a quick aside, people of mixed ethnicity are nixed almost immediately, an economic rather than racial decision; most half-infertile couples, so I've been told, never tell their half-offspring about their real daddy (I'm not sure how the lesbians deal with this). So, as the sperm market is dominated by couples of one ethnicity, the Tiger Woods' applicants are routinely rejected.
Assuming your small exaggerations (i.e. 12 inches) and bold lies (i.e. only smoked dope once) on the application pass muster, the physical and psychological exams begin. You will be checked for colorblindness, general intelligence, and defective personality traits (quirks, violent tendencies, or absentmindedly scratching your nuts during the psych interviews).
Next, a good amount of blood is drawn for the genetic tests, which is where most people fail, because the majority of us are carriers of genetic defects. Usually, they aren't manifested, unless you defy odds and marry a person with the same recessive gene, and lose on the Mendelian birth lottery. (Defects happen more within closed populations, because they share many of the same defects.) DNA testing has evolved incredibly, meaning most donor candidates will be rejected. Being told you are genetically deficient is quite a blow. Most people realize they're not perfect, but it still hurts to hear that even your genetic coding is a boiling helixed bundle of disease and mutation.
"I can totally see a future with this guy…" Once you successfully complete the steps above, the clinic ships you off to the nuts doctor. He may have a more official title, but his labor of love revolves around prodding, poking, squeezing, and measuring your sac. Several cold metal instruments are used for the inspection, including a testicle ruler that looks like a cross between a drawing compass and a nutcracker. A prostate exam is usually in order, meaning you get at least one finger (or two if the doctor is having a bad day) jammed in your ass. The final insult is that the exam room is kept at low temperatures, apparently to keep your penis shrunk to the point that it is nearly non-existent, presumably so as not to interfere with the testicular exam. During my exam, due to the frigid temperature and discomfort of standing around naked while waiting for a quack to play with my nuts, all that was left was part of the head. I was so ashamed that I gave it a few good strokes prior to the doctor's entrance.
Even if your mind, body, and lineage are up to the task, your balls still have to hold their own. A few dribbles of unmotivated jizz won't earn you the big paycheck. Each sample must qualify in terms of total semen volume, sperm count, and motility (i.e. those little bastards need to swim like the devil is after them). Because of the strict requirements, clinics usually recommend a 36-48 hour ejaculation gap before donating. A young buck, churning out testosterone by the barrel, can usually do it with less time, but there is no need to risk your hard-earned cash. Also, it gives you a great excuse for regulating sex with your girlfriend. If you're in the mood, pray for your oversexed drive to make up for lack of recovery time. If you aren't feeling like going through the motions, simply tell her, "Sorry babe, have to work tomorrow."
The sperm bank's workers should be commended for their professionalism as well. The squeamish need not apply. Only the stoutest employees can stand day after day, year after year, carrying, freezing, examining, and being around all things nut. And the "take your kid to work day" is usually a bust as well. Unlike being a sperm donor, I can say with confidence that the surrounding staff is certainly not working their dream job.
The perks of the job are clear to all: whacking off, which we do anyway, and getting paid for it. Some sperm banks run an incentive program, like a bonus for X number of successful donations. Even the sperm industry has to be creative in motivating its employees. And the top quality joints provide additional perks, like cookies and juice at the end of a hard session. Materials are supplied to make the job easier, including magazines, videos, and DVDs. I inquired whether live help was ever provided, and was sternly told no, probably because the clinics didn't want to carry the extra costs. I can think of no other reason.
The best part is the working hours. Depending on your ability, scrotum tension, film choice, and frame of mind, a competent donor is looking at no more than 5-15 minutes of enjoyable labor. The donor can also choose the time of day, a much better perk than the vast majority of jobs offer.
I would be remiss not to mention negative aspects. Local laws usually put a number and time cap on donating, so you won't be able to work as a donor straight through to early retirement. The government has responded to hysteria about donee babies growing up and accidentally marrying each other. Industry professionals assure us that the chance of this happening is almost non-existent. Another problem is confidentiality. Most donors are in it for the money, and the thought of being revealed to anonymous progeny later in life sends shivers down their spine. Clinics assure them that their secrets will never be revealed, but pesky politicians are always threatening to pass a law, stripping clinics of privacy.
The biggest issue, naturally, is moral considerations. Many people have doubts about whether it is morally proper to jack off for cash, knowing your tadpoles may actually grow up to be somebody. I have no such compunction, and, notwithstanding my mass of genetic defects, would shoot out loads to aid the public, assuming the price was right. For the haters, all I can say is: hate the sperm, not the donor. And for all the would-be donors on the fence, just think: you'll be one or two steps ahead on the evolutionary ladder.