I work at a circus.

Welcome to the Big Top of manufacturing chaos! No ringleader, just a ragtag circus troupe where the Benny Hill theme is the official soundtrack to our daily three-ring disaster. I'm the sole audience member, laughing at the death-defying feats of incompetence performed by my coworkers. Somehow, this traveling freak show has been on tour for over a century. The pay? I'm basically working for popcorn. But the job itself? So easy, even the circus dog could do it between naps.