Can you fry chicken?

Some years ago, a man in his early 60s was offered $200,000 for a motel-restaurant-gas station business that he had devoted his life to. He turned the offer down because he was too young to retire. By the time he turned 65, he was flat broke because a new highway bypassed his business. So with his Social Security check in hand, he decided to set out in his battered car with a pressure cooker and a can of specially prepared flour...determined to make a new life for himself.

Of course, that's the story of Harland Sanders, the man who started the chain still called Kentucky Fried Chicken or KFC. The Colonel's face still adorns the buckets of chicken that are sold everyday of the week. His is a true American success story.

But it got me to wondering, what else could I do so I could feed my family if my job were to end at the Lignite Energy Council? Well, I used to be the editor of a weekly newspaper and spent about half my time running a printing press. I'm not sure I could learn that trade again because it's been 30 years since I ran a press and I'm sure technology is quite a bit different than the early 1980s. In fact, the modern copier and the computer has made a lot of printing jobs obsolete. Maybe I should look elsewhere.

When I was in college, I worked in a bakery, but we don't have a bakery in Bismarck anymore. Or at least not one that makes bread and rolls like we did at Eddy's bakery in Missoula. There's a bakery called "Bread Poets" but its a small "mom and pop" operation that has a few employees but basically bakes bread and cookies for people who pop in and buy their goods. They are not widely distributed to grocery stores, but maybe I could get a job at Bread Poets.

What else could I do? Well I could try to get another job in public relations or with a newspaper, but that's not as adventuresome as Colonel Sanders.

Some misguided people have thought I missed my calling and I really should have been a preacher. But since my wife is the secretary of our church, I'm well aware of all the heartburn that a preacher puts up with. I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a preacher. In fact, I think it might be depressing. I met a man through Toastmasters who was a former Lutheran minister in Minot. He told me he quit working as a pastor because he was clinically depressed. I'm afraid I might join him if I decided to be part of the clergy.

So what else is left? I fancied myself as an artist when I was young...however, after taking an art class, I found myself completely devoid of artistic talent.

I see these buses driving around Bismarck without a single passenger in them. I suppose I could drive a city bus. I mean, there would be no one to complain if the bus was late, because no one rides the bus. However, our city streets are often ice covered in the winter. I'm not sure I would want to drive a bus on icy roads eight hours a day.

Hmmm, I'm running out of choices. I know a couple of people who used to have jobs like mine and when they found themselves unemployed, they tried their hand at sales. However, I don't think that ended very well for them because there are lots of people selling everything. The competition is fierce. I think some people were meant for sales, but I'm not sure it's me. I tried to sell newspaper ads years ago and didn't have very good luck at it. I doubt I would be much better at selling houses or cars.

Well, I've about run out of options. I guess my best hope is to keep the job I have. I'm not sure there is anything else I can do...or at least, not very well. So if someone wants to know if I can fry chicken, I better tell them "no."

Actually, this reminds me a lot of when I graduated from high school and my classmates were undecided about their career choices because they could choose so many different fields. Me? I went into journalism because it was the one thing I was good at. I can't fry chicken, but I can write and I have a pretty good imagination. Maybe I could be a novelist. No, that wouldn't work....I need something that brings home a paycheck. I better continue to bloom where I've been planted.