Bond’s new film, “Spectre,” opened this past weekend and, even though I haven’t seen it yet, I’m sure Mr. Bond came out on top. Yeah, the job of being a secret agent looks glamorous on the big screen. You get to sleep with gorgeous women. Not only do you win every fight, but if for some odd reason you don’t, you certainly will have plenty of “revenge time” to more than even the score. And you’ll heal overnight without any residual side effects like broken bones, ruptured spleens, or having to deal with insurance companies.
At least, that’s the way it is on film.
Here are some real-world reasons why I didn’t go to the Be A Secret Agent booth at our high school Career Day.
No matter where you go, somebody’s going to try to kill you. IMHO, this is not a plus. While it does put life’s normal problems in perspective, I don’t want anything to do with a career that has “possible intentional death” in the job description. Another tip off to the lack of career longevity in this field—there’s no 401K.
You have to lie about your occupation on your tax forms. If you think messing with Dr. No, Goldfinger, Ernst Blofeld, Jaws or any other nemesis of 007’s was tough, there is no greater foe to face than that bookworm-ish clerk behind the desk at the ultimate organization of evil—the IRS. Even Q couldn’t come up with a gadget to counter that guy with a pen.
Btw, I’ve always felt Q was playing both sides of the fence. Whatever device he creates, it’s exactly what James is going to need! Curious, no? Not once can I remember Q giving James a weapon that he didn’t require in order to save his own skin. Which is why you never heard James Bond berate Mr. Tip or whatever Q’s last name was, with “Hey, jerkhead. For the last month I’ve carried this stupid brick that turns into a car when all I needed was a damn lock pick. Get your #$@% together, assh-le!” Very un-British.
Stunningly beautiful women are not common among spies. And for a good reason—spies are supposed to blend in, otherwise they’re too easy to identify, right?
M: The Queen wants you to bring in Susan Anderson.
Spy: The one who looks like Sofia Vergara?
M: That’s the one.
Spy: Can you get me a photo of her in a bikini?
M: The Queen?
Spy: NO! Not the Queen! Sofia Vergara.
M: What for? You already know what she looks like.
Spy: I know. I just want it for, uh, you know, personal reasons.
You have to constantly check for hidden explosives, poisonous snakes and insects, and poisoned food. Again, these are not pluses for any job I’d be interested in. I’d be so paranoid that I’d be afraid to use the damn toilet. It might have some super suction thing on it and I’d never be heard from again. Not a good way to go.
You’ll never be in a fight with six guys and come out the winner. When in real life has this kind of thing ever happened? Only in the movies. Why? Because the bad guys never gang up on the good guy. They fight him one at a time. That’s like believing Killer Bees take turns stinging you to death.
You have to fly coach. The glamor never stops with this job. Then, of course, you have to wheel your own luggage through the airport to the car rental place where you’re gifted with not a brand spanking new Aston-Martin, but a Diesel-powered VW instead.
I’m glad James Bond is still around in movies. But with cyber warfare being the threat to big business, I’m not sure I’d be rooting for Mr. Bond, James Bond.
Til next Tuesday…