You think you have a shitty job? I can assure you that as a crash test dummy, I have you beat. I’d dare you to walk a workday in my shoes, but I don’t even have any, which is probably a corporate safety violation, firstly. What gave you the impression that my job was cool? This life isn’t for everyone, baby, it’s not all fast luxury cars and hot women. And I’ll be the first to admit, I love dumb women. Like, the dumbest women possible. But I promise you, my job sucks.

Every workday is the same for me. I wake up in my storage closet, I’m dragged over to the car safety testing area, and strapped up in the driver’s seat, with not even a small cup of watered-down coffee offered to me. Even when I call shotgun, I’m still belted into the driver’s seat because that’s how badly we’re micro-managed.

Then, for eight hours, I’m forced to drive top mile-per-hour speeds straight into a brick wall over and over and over again. Sometimes I yearn to drive somewhere else, perhaps along a beachside road in Hawaii—so I can put my copy of Hawaii for Dummies to use, of course! Then, at the end of the day, I can’t even escape my co-workers. I go right back into the storage closet, so there’s zero work-life balance!

Admittedly, I’m exhausted and the job is really taking a toll on me. I’m not kidding, it feels like I’m going to crash. Every night, I come home to a splitting concussion. What am I, an NFL player? This job can really burn you out, and I’m not just talking about how the cars I drive catch on fire most days. This isn’t the CTE talking, but it’s hard to remember the last time I was able to take a vacation with my family. I’d love to just unwind, stretch out with my arms positioned behind my head, and float on a lazy river until I get mistaken for a dead body that washes up on a shore. Either way, I don’t know how long this can go on. You know, I’m not made entirely out of steel!

Being a crash test dummy was never my dream job, you know. Even as a young dumb-dumb, I had my sights set on being a storefront mannequin. Yes, few make it in the business. You have to know the right dummies, have the right factory-imported look. But I really believed I had what it took to make it as a Macy’s mannequin in the men’s department someday. The night I told my father my plans to attend mannequin training school, he was so stunned, so shocked, that he couldn’t move. He told me that a “career” as a mannequin was a sell-out, and was for wussies. Dad crushed my dreams that night, and forced me to follow in his footsteps of being a crash test dummy. The dumb “man’s” career.

As I lie awake and still at night, I do think about an alternate reality where I’m doing something else with my life. I had bigger dreams than being a car test dummy. It’s not even fair sometimes because my friends have so much cooler jobs than me. One of my buddies is a CPR doll, and it must be really rewarding to let people simulate crushing your ribs. I’m most jealous of my old girlfriend. She’s a sex doll and that’s not the life for me, but at least she’s getting some action and some passion. My wife is pretty much expressionless when we get intimate and I just don’t know what it’s going to take to make her smile.

I may be a dummy, but I’m not dumb you know? But I think it’s too late for me to pursue another career. I got a wife, my beautiful children, Dumbo, Humpty Dumpty, and Steve to support now. But know this, one of these days I’m going to learn how to drive a car properly, put my foot on the gas pedal, and get out of the test facility toward a new life.

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