I’m always curious about the way professions and job titles evolve. People making short video clips, for example, are now “content creators”. Because, it seems, anything can become “content”, even what I’m writing here for you to read. I could actually put this on film, or record it, in which case I’d no longer a blogger. I’ve become a podcaster, a vlogger, or even better, an influencer.
Meanwhile, I watch (and if I am honest, mostly enjoy) those Dr. Rick commercials. You know the ones, of “young homeowners becoming their parents”. I, of course, am long since into the parent category. I talk to people in the grocery store, I’ve even been known to correct a bagger when they’re putting eggs or chips in the bottom. One of the most recent ones, though, is an introduction to internet communication. It features a young man who is a “reaction influencer”, and you may have seen it. At one point, he’s putting on hats in the video, if video is even still the right term. One of the observers asks, “So you sell hats?” No, the influencer explains. He’s just putting them on to judge a reaction. Apparently, it’s a thing. I googled it, and here’s what I found.
“Influencer reaction videos, a mainstay of platforms like YouTube and TikTok, feature creators watching and responding to viral clips, music, news, or pop culture moments. In 2025, this content has evolved beyond mere facial expressions; influencers now weave in expertise, personal anecdotes, and humor. Audiences seek not just the original clip, but a trusted voice interpreting and contextualizing it for them.” This comes from writer Eli Turner, from a website called #Influencers Time. Wow. Apparently, as the author of this column indicates, being a “reaction influencer” is a big money-maker. Or, as we now say, is a “monetizer”, the $$$ equivalent of “content”. That money flows in from subscriptions and advertising. Who knew? And more importantly, what am I doing wrong, sitting at my computer writing this? I see people doing stupid stuff every day. I could be filming it, commenting on it, and posting it to millions of devoted followers for beaucoup cash. Not that I don’t appreciate all of my faithful readers – I do, indeed. But if I’m honest, you’re not contributing much to my retirement account.
I was in a furniture store a few years back to buy a new recliner for Her Ladyship. A fine young man assisted in the process, and after the purchase was complete, he handed me his card. On it, I was informed that he isn’t a “salesperson”. He is a “customer satisfaction representative”. Ah. Sales is no longer what happens when we enter a store, purchase something, and walk out. I’d guess that if we’re unhappy with our purchase down the road and need to take it back, the person at the euphemistically called “customer service” desk, who explains the store policies and why return isn’t an option, is a “customer non-satisfaction representative.” Quite like the person in “tech support” that tells us he or she has no idea why our technology is not performing as it should.
As a fan of the show, “Jeopardy”, the opening announces the contestants, what they do, and where they’re from. So, we get a name, followed by “an innovation communicator from Des Moines, Iowa.” Later in the show, Ken is getting to know them, but rather than asking “what the heck is an ‘innovation communicator’?”, he instead turns to something like, “You had a funny experience with your cat recently. Tell us about it.” No, no, Ken. We don’t care about the cat. Go back to the job.
There was a time when jobs were, well, self-explanatory. A “butler” buttled. A “carter” was a prehistoric trucker. They transported goods by cart, usually horse-drawn. Surnames, like Baker, were often taken from the family profession. If you’ve ever wondered about the name “Fletcher”, it derived from “fletching”, the feathers attached to the end of an arrow to ensure an accurate flight path. The fletcher was the person that made and calibrated it. Very useful in the Middle Ages, before firearms. Now, of course, in today’s world of archery, they would be called Projectile Stabilization Technologists.
When a football team hires an “offensive coordinator”, we pretty much know what they do, and it has nothing to do with being brash and annoying. In broadcasting, the “color commentator” is the person that provides bits and pieces of insight so we don’t get tired of hearing the main commentator babble on and on, particularly when not much is happening on the field.
My final position before I retired was as a school district “Fine Arts Director.” What is that, you may well ask, and further, is it all that important? Yes, it’s vital. I oversaw programs in the arts – visual art, music, theatre, and media. I oversaw the curricula in each, the course offerings. I supervised and evaluated teachers, developed budgets, and so on. And yes, I was also a music teacher. There are, as in any school district, educational layers of instruction, and titles that describe them. Titles evolved over the years, often to make them more appealing. Janitors became “custodians”. Teacher aides became “program assistants” or “para-professionals”. Business administrators, often at the level of assistant superintendent, oversaw all of the district’s finances, which can be very complicated, and entails holding certifications and licensures. All of those titles were fine, because we all knew what they did. We didn’t have to wonder.
We used to have “activists”. Ok, those are people working for a specific cause. But, were they paying jobs and careers? Could you live on that? In the 19th century, we had “anarchists”, people seeking to overthrow governments. Archduke Franz Ferdinand and President William McKinley were assassinated by two of them. But were those professions? Was that something you put on your resume? Did a Human Resources director, on reviewing your application, ask, “I see you’re an anarchist. What have you done lately to shake things up?” No, I guess it’s just a political philosophy that has, or will pass into the dark corners of history, like moderate Republicans.
At some period in the recent past, the term “life coach” appeared. There was probably a need. I never had one, so I’m speculating here that it was a service provided for a person that needed a little back-up or lacked direction in life, as opposed to the person requiring a whole psychological SWAT team. Someone whose peace of mind has a few bumps and potholes, or who is going through a difficult transition phase. A career change, or perhaps inheriting some caregiving situation. I’m not exactly sure what experiences or professional training one need to be a life coach, although I do know that a friend’s mother was considering it fairly late in her life. Her life was, shall we say, a bit dependent and chaotic, and empathy wasn’t really her strong suit. My first thought when she announced that she was pursuing that career was, “oh, dear God.”
In the current job market, new title buzz words are running rampant. They include “strategist”, “optimizer”, “facilitator”, and “coordinator”. My wife and daughter are ardent followers of the television show, “Project Runway”. They’ve been watching since the dawn of time, or when Tim Gunn mentored the designers. One of the current judges bills themselves as an “image architect”. First, my sincerest apologies to Frank Lloyd Wright, Christopher Wren, Frank Gehry, Frederick Law Olmsted, and so many other famous designers of buildings, parks, gardens, and other notable design achievements of actual things. They must be swirling overhead at the new use of “architect”. Anyway, this person apparently develops “images” for people. Kind of like a publicist on steroids. It’s described as ‘way more than fashion and make-up”. It’s a total look, and if his own image is anything to go by, it goes well beyond the visually superficial to personality as well. Particularly to the condescending and confrontational. If it’s a “look” and an attitude that some find appealing, they should perhaps “look” again.
As social media and the internet transform the job landscape, it’s inevitable that job titles and descriptions will continue to expand into the realm of intensely perplexing and bewildering. And if you could see my face right now, it’s a mixture of frowny face and “deer in the headlights”. I may not yet be an influencer, but I have the “reaction” part down.
I'm Thinking...No! 