I’ve decided I want to be a hermit. Did you know that being a hermit was actually a legitimate job back in the day? Can you imagine? No Zoom meetings! No meetings of any kind! I’m an introvert. I absolutely loved not having any social obligations during COVID. In some places during the 1700s to 1800s, having a hermit was simply THE thing. Wealthy people could have a hermitage complete with an ornamental living hermit. When guests came, they would hope to catch a glimpse of the hermit, having heard all about the hermit’s many odd behaviors.

One example from the times comes from the Honorable Charles Hamilton, as shared by Smithsonian magazine. Mr. Hamilton advertised that he was looking for a hermit to “live in the sprawling gardens at his Painshill estate in Cobham, England, must be silent, never speaking to the servants who brought him his daily meals. He must wear a goat’s hair robe and never cut his hair, nails or beard. Shoes were out of the question.” If he managed this and never left the estate for seven years, he would receive the rough equivalent of $130,000.

I wonder how itchy goat’s hair is? Could I wear something soft underneath? Even if not, I’m sure I could adapt. If camel hair was good enough for John the Baptist, goat hair is good enough for me. I can file my nails on rough rocks and braid my hair. I could put up with a lot for a seven-year vacation with a nice pile of money at the end of it. Unfortunately for Mr. Hamilton, his hermit didn’t work out. He was caught at the local pub not too long after he started work.

One of the most famous hermits was Japan’s naked hermit. He doesn’t fit my criteria of being paid to live in beautiful surroundings, but he’s an interesting character. He got fed up with other humans and found a small island where he lived for 30 years. Sounds nice except that the island came fully furnished with pit vipers and ravenous mosquitos. It makes me wonder what kinds of humans he knew if pit vipers were preferable. He hadn’t originally intended to be naked. But when his clothes got washed away, he found that he didn’t miss them. In fact, they felt unnatural, which I suppose they are. So long as he was in his tent by 6:30, he could avoid being eaten by bugs.

No, that kind of hermit experience is not for me. And what about my husband? I’ve thought this out. If I’m not allowed to have him with me, then he can be the hermit on the entitled neighbor’s estate. We could find secret ways to pass messages to one another and catch glimpses of each other over the hedgerows. It could be romantic. It would also be adventurous and fun. Naturally, the neighbors would be one-upping one another as to the weirdness of their hermit, and we would have fun competing. Dave has the advantage here; he naturally produces strange behaviors all day long. He might obsessively vacuum his dirt path or start yodeling every morning to earn his keep. But he didn’t marry me for nothing. I’m sure I can beat him. I’ll make elaborate hats out of twigs and leaves, I can also run screaming in fear anytime a guest wears orange. I can walk backward over parts of the grounds and paint my nose purple.

If no one in England wants to hire us, I wonder if my office could use a decorative hermit? My co-workers certainly know I can produce odd behavior. Even better, I could expand my outreach and be the hermit for the whole university. I already talk to the ducks. Having an official hermit would be an innovative way to reduce stress and anxiety for everyone. I am open to offers!

Anneli Byrd is an academic adviser in Weber State University’s Student Success Center.