More sales for the cynical

It is late. I am tired. I have spent my Saturday night writing (gasp, cynical readers) sales letters. Steel yourself. I like spending my Saturday night writing sales letters. I also like spending my Saturday night dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant in a designer dress - but that doesn't happen very often. Well, OK. It doesn't happen at all. So I spend my Saturday night writing sales letters.

And (gasp again, cynical reader, and shake your head in despair) I like writing sales letters.

Is that wrong? Is it unethical? Should I have spent the evening bandaging the broken legs of badgers or lobbying parliament to make chocolate fudge brownies illegal for the sake of an overweight nation?

Some people would say that I should. A retired friend hinted the other day that her career as a primary school teacher was a far nobler vocation than advertising and communications consultancy. I could have argued (but didn't) that there's a good pinch of copywriting (reports) and copy-editing (stories) in that job too. I could have argued (but didn't) that I too am unlocking the potential of hundreds of minds.

Where is the greater good after all? There are very few completely useless jobs out there - professional footballer and It girl are the only ones that spring to my mind. I want to help people using the skills I happen to have - creating clear text means clear messaging means a clear route to sales. Whether those sales are of Clinique or textbooks or park benches, they are sales to someone who wants the item being sold. So they get want they want - or need - and the company thrives.

I couldn't have been a doctor, as I don't like blood. Or pain. Or ill people. And my mum told me never to be a teacher. She was a teacher. I could have been a lawyer but there's a career that's not exactly short on ethical dilemmas. So here I am, writing sales letters, and worrying about punctuation, and promoting the power of the written word to make the world a better place. And I like it.