There are easier ways to make a living in Ducktown.  The economic downturn isn't as real here.

Allegorically...

I work for a small but prestigious consulting firm as a Sr. Goat Engineer.  I perform functional testing on pre-trained goats.   

These are industry goats, but they have to pass rather stringent Government Goat Specifications.  I act as a liaison between the private sector and the various official agencies which regulate goats. 

As a simple example, say there is a "must" statement in a Functional Goat Specification that calls for the goat to bleat in C minor when it eats a carrot.  I spend a day with the shepherd going over the basic goat configuration and setup.  During trainer presentation, we establish some baselines... the goat can bleat, it sounds close to a C minor, and the goat does in fact like carrots.

When I'm finally alone with the goat I plug various connectors into the proper goat orifaces, plug in an scope and feed the goat a carrot.  It sounds a lot more glamorous than it really is.  I then note whether the goat ate the carrot, how much he ate and how long it took him, whether he bleated and for how long, and the exact frequency curve of his bleat.  I'll also record subjective impressions of the goat, such as "OW, the fucker BIT ME".
 
Of course, it's not nearly as simple as that. A a real functional goat specification is more likely to call for the goat to be able to eat 5 entrees at a Michelin starred restaurant and tell you exactly what ingredients were used and where they came from. Furthermore, they have to do this continuously, and not become confused between courses.   So instead of carrots, I have to cook up obnoxious yet complex recipies for the little beasts to consume, then record a large matrix of reactions.  It can be tedious work, but on the plus side I get to work with an extremely talented group of people who I'm told developed both goats and carrots, and trademarked C minor. 

Then I write vague reports, and do a Goat and Carrot Show to the agency and bill my time.  The rent gets paid and the subcommittee is none the wiser.


On the other hand, I'm not opposed to taking out Cocker Spaniels as a sideline.

Sheeit.  How far is it to DC?

Hm.  A bit less than 20 gallons there, 20 gallons back... 10 hours each way for a profit of, say, four hundred dollars...

nah.  Too lazy.