Forget about a nice printed client list—you can count your clients on your fingers and still have fingers left over. Guess you'll need a second fast-food job to pay your rent. Wonder if your dire economic straits qualify you as a charity?

Monthly commission checks are flowing steadily into your bank account, and you've left the fast-food jobs in the dust. Unfortunately, you gained twenty pounds at those places because you couldn't afford to eat anywhere else. So now you've joined a "meat market" gym to work off the weight.

You're top dog in your regional market, which means your fire engine-red Lamborghini has its own company parking space. You conduct most of your business at the country club, because that's where the CEOs hang out. You've sent your kids abroad to study (and party) for a year.

This sales manager job is a great gig. You netted a better office and monthly overrides from your staff's business. Ka-ching. Quarterly company boondoggles, er, offsite meetings, give you a chance to hobnob with the big dogs. Plus the company flies you around the country to give motivational speeches.

You've become larger than life—you just signed off on a Hollywood movie about your colorful ad sales career. Your sales consultant career has taken off, although you conduct most of it on your smartphone from your own Bahamian island. You recently turned down three more CEO offers—too many demands on your time.