You finally finish your residency and earn your certifications, and are invited to join the medical practitioners group "Feet, Hands, and Other Limbs." After a week of appointments, it dawns on you that you dislike feet and the people they are attached to.

You open a private practice in a strip mall outside of Tampa and make a respectable but uninspiring living examining the feet of retirees so that they can return to the shuffleboard court as quickly as possible.

You join a well-respected medical group and specialize in the footy area of your choice. You work diligently and assiduously, and eventually become the senior doctor in your practice.

Your private clinic caters to some of the fattest cats in town, and your reputation and bank account are as padded as their bunions and corns. You spring for a house on the lake and spend non-foot-related hours exploring the countryside (on foot).

You run one of the largest podiatric clinics in the nation, with an army of foot soldiers at your beck and call, each earning money for you. You retire early in luxury and invest in a football team as a hobby.