Possibly the most prominent character the 1991 movie, Father of the Bride, was the wedding planner, Franck Eggelhoffer, played by Martin Short.

His garbled East European accent, combined with his camp flair, made the job of organising the biggest day in the life of two people, seem like, well, a piece of wedding cake.

But don’t let Franck’s apparent cool deceive you. It has to be a facade. People hire wedding planners because they want to pass the stress that comes with arranging the grandest day of their lives onto someone else. Namely you.

The stress factor is the first point I am going to address. Most people taking a job, any job, are concerned about the amount of stress that is likely to be involved. So if any level of stress bothers you, this not is the career for you.

First up are you dealing with the actual stress of organising the event. Why, oh why, isn’t the preferred church free on the preferred day while the preferred venue is?

Then you are also dealing with the “second hand” stress from the couple-to-be. Why, oh why, isn’t the preferred church free on the preferred day while the preferred venue is?

But if the stress isn’t a downside, then the fact that you, as a wedding planner, never quite take full control of proceedings, may be. Organising someone else’s wedding is like minding someone else’s child; in other words it’s never completely your baby.

Being a wedding planner will also test a number of your skills, possibly some you never knew you had before.

You are not just an organiser, you are also a negotiator, a motivator, an inspiration, a magician (should either the preferred church or preferred venue be unavailable), an enforcer, (should either the preferred church or preferred venue be unavailable) and a shoulder to cry on (should either the preferred church or preferred venue be unavailable).

It is also something of thankless job. If all goes well it is remembered as [insert married couple's names here] wedding, whereas if it all goes horribly wrong, guess whose fault it is. By the way, if things don’t quite go according to plan, you may wish to consider the services of a Spin doctor!

Let’s not dwell too much on the negatives though.

If it’s prestige you want, then yes, you have probably come to the right place. Chances are one of your quality crafted weddings will make the social pages of the Sunday papers, and maybe even grace a glossy gossip mag or two.

And if it’s money you want, then again, you have hit a home run. You should be able to turn a half decent profit, and enjoy the domicile of a lavish office (much in the style of Franck Eggelhoffer and associates) since you can take advantage of inflated mark ups whenever the word “wedding” is mentioned.

Oh, and one other thing, just as doctors should never treat their own ailments, wedding planners should not organise their own weddings. Having arranged so many others, the pressure on you to make yours the “best ever” could be unbearable.

If I were you, I’d consider eloping and marrying in the presence of a Justice of the Peace on a secluded beach somewhere. Makes sense, I once knew a wedding planner who said she couldn’t stand crowds!

If you believe the geeks shall inherit the Earth, then their time has come.

That’s if you also believe that someone who keeps an online journal, weblog, or blog, is in fact a geek. And thanks to strides in technology anyone can become a blogger, and by definition, a geek, at the click of a mouse button.

At the height of the dot com boom, way back in the day, 1999, being a web design superstar was the IT (no pun intended) occupation. Now the humble blogger’s time has come. Whoever thought that sitting at home “blogging” about your favourite topic, (ops, I mean niche) could turn a respectable buck thanks to some shrewd ad “placement”?

But you’re no longer a web designer, or even a blogger. You are a “pro blogger”, and with any luck a superstar to boot. And being a pro blogger superstar is more than receiving cheque proceeds for the aforementioned ad placement, each month, from the world’s favourite search engine.

Some of the pros, the big names, spend their time roaming the globe presenting at conferences, speaking on panels, and attending their own book launches. A fairly fabulous, glamorous occupation, no?

There are A-lists, the elite, the upper echelons, and the inner circle. And every blogger wants a piece of the action, to be not only above the fold, but also in the fold. But maybe blogging has become a self absorbing obsession unto itself. The focus is no longer on producing content, it’s about web stats, technorati rankings, back links, and page ranks.

But let’s put that superficial stuff aside, and answer the question. How do you make a go of it? How do you succeed and become a pro blog superstar? Well, there is plenty of advice around on the subject, so you have no excuse!

If you don’t have time to read though, let me summarise. It’s about writing articles that are at least 500 words long (like this one) and publishing such articles at least five times a week just so the search engine indexes don’t lose sight of you. It’s about networking 24/7, and trying every promotional gizmo and scheme that someone “introduces” to you.

It’s about being creative, brainstorming and finding inspiration on the fly. Some days the ideas flow, and you’re writing nine to the dozen, while at other times writer’s block descends, and it takes days to knock out the requisite 500 words, or even conceive an idea. And you know what they say; lose a day baby, lose two page rank points!

But there I go being a geek again. Or a wanna-be geek. A plethora of tools and applications means anyone can be a “geek” though. It’s a term of derision that became cool but has now become a cliche.

The writers of those of blogging applications are the real geeks though, the ones we owe our (imminent) success to, and it is their efforts that have bought about the dawning of the instant, or D-I-Y, entrepreneur age.

They somehow missed out on inheriting the Earth, but made millions when they sold their applications though. Now that’s glamour for you.

As a job title wouldn’t this be considered an oxymoron? It must also be about the only time you would see the words television and personality grouped in the same sentence as well.

No, just kidding, really. You see I don’t have a TV, so I think the whole medium is just about a complete waste of time.

I prefer to spend my spare time out at the park, in the lap pool, at the movies, going out for dinner, going out for coffee, engaging in face-to-face conversation, reading (remember that?), networking, blogging, designing websites, and surfing the net.

So it doesn’t leave a great deal of time for the idiot box, I mean TV, does it? Besides, there’s only so many times you can watch re-runs of the Simpsons, right?

So it’s not that I’m biased or anything. I mean a medium that offers no connection, or interactivity, and is responsible for the death of personal communication still has its merits right? Ops, there I go again…

A job as a TV Personality indeed appeals. There’s the fame and the fortune. There’s sitting and chewing the fat with all sorts of people that the rest of us will be lucky to see from 100 metres, as they are whisked into limousines flanked by their minders.

There’s becoming part of the A-list and being invited to the birthdays, weddings, and all manner of other debauched gatherings, of those “who have made it”. Then there’s the Logies, the Emmys, and all the other accolades that are part and parcel of being a TV personality.

There’s the privilege of being part of the inner circle of a very elite clique of well known, beautiful, well groomed and manicured, and impeccably dressed people, who all have pearly white smiles and dazzling bright eyes.

That’s probably (hopefully) enticement enough to see your way passed the back stabbing, cat fights, and intensely bitter rivalry and competition that must be overcome to be able to come anywhere near the studio floor.

Selling your soul (and your actual personality at the same time) may contribute to your “success” though.

So is it really for you? Is this what you want to be? This is an important question, because on screen there is no you.

Being a TV Personality is really just an act. A pretense. A put on. It’s all about regurgitating the auto-cue. It’s not you at all.

The person yabbering away on the box in the living rooms of millions of people may have your name, but what about your actual, real, personality? Is that person really you, remotely you, or a total facade?

So see what I mean when I say oxymoron?

If you want a job that requires having some personality while presenting yourself to people, why not consider a career as a stand up comedian? It is a job where you can truly be who you are, you write and act out your own gigs, and no remote can ever stop or silence you.

Try being a TV Personality and see if you are half as lucky.

Apparently being a stockbroker is a glamourous job. Or fabulous, as we say it at The InterChange Desk.

I read as much in a glossy magazine (whose title evades me now) while sitting in my dentist’s waiting room the other afternoon. (It was an article featuring stockbrokers, not unfortunately, The InterChange Desk, just in case there was any confusion in that last sentence.)

Really fabulous jobs, like being a rock star, actor, fashion photographer, model, et al, the ones that totally evade mere mortals like us, are what I’d consider to be, well, absolutely fabulous.

As a stockbroker you have to wear a suit. A gray pin-stripe suit at that. Not to mention dull ties, and boring business shirts, and while I’m laying on the generalisations ad lib, bowler hats. Unless you’re a stockbroker working in New York.

You also have the privilege of working in an office.

And it is on that basis I fail to see how stockbroking could possibly be considered… glamorous.

Sorry to break it to you, but there is nothing glamourous, fabulous, or otherwise cool, about working in an office. Why do you think this column is called the FAB (pro)files? Because so far none of the occupations reviewed have been office based.

Nor do they involve wearing a suit (Ok, aside from a uniform here, and a SPACE suit there…). Unless it was personally designed by one of the fashion gods.

And sure, Ricky Gervais made office work look cool, but that was all made up. No one really had to suffer “working” in those beige conditions, under those beige fluorescent lights.

Truly fabulous jobs entail not getting out of bed each morning for anything less than ten thousand dollars, and even then only working for 20 minutes a day. Or something. Truly fabulous jobs only require the uttering of a smart one-liner, or posing with a suitably sensuous pout and smoldering darkness in your eyes.

Also I don’t know how shouting yourself hoarse on the overcrowded trading floor of a stock exchange is remotely glamourous. That sounds more like a long hard night at the Roundhouse bar during O Week at the local university.

Then again stockbrokers are on a pretty good retainer. They probably have a few Mercedes and Rolls parked in the garage. Vintage models and late models. And the garage probably has ten parking bays, and is also air conditioned.

It sits underneath the 35 room mansion stockbrokers live in, which is accessed by elevators from the garage. Out in the backyard you’ll find an Olympic size swimming pool, and most likely a nine hole golf course.

They probably have a couple of holidays homes along the coast, and take two month vacations to where ever takes their fancy annually.

So yes, all up, it’s not a bad lark really. They probably even get a few tax breaks as well. Depreciation on the vintage cars, or something.

Still I think classing it a fabulous job is a tad over the top. I think someone’s had a whiskey or three. Peated single malt, 12-year-old whiskey, that is.