It all started my senior year of college. My best college chum and I were stressing out about finding find jobs after graduation. She took it upon herself to point out every “Apply Within” or “Now Hiring” sign she saw on any business – anywhere – including every stop along our Spring Break road trip to Memphis, Tennessee which was more than 500 miles from our college campus and more than 2,000 miles from our post-grad destination city of San Francisco.

After we both relocated to the city by the bay and landed jobs in our desired careers, our conversations turned from “You could work there” to “I’m glad that’s not my job.” Because when you’re young and doing grunt work, it’s reassuring to remember there are jobs you would hate even more than your own.

In San Francisco, the leader for me in this category was the bike messenger. Now don’t get me wrong, these are people I have utmost respect for. They courier things across the fair city, up and down the craziest hills. They’re in excellent shape, and they have to stay sharp so as not to get massacred by cabs and tourists in oversized rental cars. All of which are also reasons I’m really glad that’s not my job.

Over the years, “I’m glad that’s not my job” has applied to a variety of professions… receptionists at HMO offices, men shoveling snow off Minnesota sidewalks, Naomi Campbell’s personal assistant, and the fine folks on A&E’s “Parking Wars,” just to name a few.

This weekend, I realized yet another career that I greatly respect but have no desire to pursue – Mixed Martial Arts (MMA). Some of you folks may not be all that familiar with MMA and the UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship – the USA’s largest MMA promotion). Like San Francisco’s bike messengers, UFC fighters are amazing athletes and are well prepared to take a beating. Unlike bike messengers, UFC fighters are also well prepared to deliver a good thrashing.

Whether you love or hate the UFC, you have to admit it’s a tough job. Can you imagine doing this? Knowing every time you show up for work, it’s your job to get in a fight. Not an argument, but straight up hand-to-hand combat. Leaving bloody and bruised… only to go home and start training to do it all over again.

I have to say… I’m glad that’s not my job. And I’m guessing you are too. Have a great week!