It has been a long road to get to where I am in my career today. I didn’t always want to be a florist/guest services employee. Actually, I never wanted to work at the front desk of a hotel, but desperate times, my friends. For a second job, it’s really a pretty good option.
I had several other choices I could have chosen, and some that I had even begun to pursue. Let’s reflect.
From what I recall, this is the first thing I wanted to be when I grew up. I watched a lot of Disney movies as a young girl and I’m sure I wanted to be a princess, but I always knew that wasn’t a realistic dream. Disc jockey was a much more attainable goal. I knew DJs. Not personally…parents of classmates usually…but at least they weren’t cartoons. I could listen to these real people talk every single day.
By high school that dream had faded, but I had my chance to try out my radio voice. In order to get an easy A for a project in Spanish class, I volunteered myself to answer phone calls for a Spanish radio program. The phone calls were few and far between so the task basically consisted of me and my friends dicking around until the phone rang, then trying to get the other to answer it.
One night, I had my big break. I was asked to do the weather report for Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Totally nailed it on the first try. Sunny. Effing cold. I read it a few more times just to be sure, but the radio lady told me I didn’t need to.
I sat in my car on MLK day waiting and waiting. Apparently I didn’t have any indoor radios or anything better to do. I gave a flawless performance and felt confident that had I chosen to be a radio DJ, I’d rise to the ranks of Casey Kasem.
Still keeping it in the wings as a fallback.
In 5th grade, we did an activity where we drew an occupation out of a hat and, with our salary in mind, had to find a house, car, etc. in the newspaper. We practiced writing checks and made our house and car payments and got a taste of what adulthood was like. Obviously that shit is useless now because nobody writes checks except our grandmas.
When it was my turn to draw for a career, I had my fingers tightly crossed for hip disc jockey. The immense stress and subsequent disappointment I felt when I read the word “PODIATRIST” was the same feeling I got when I was on a water level while playing Sonic the Hedgehog on SEGA and couldn’t get to an air bubble in time.
And I didn’t know what the hell a podiatrist even was, I just knew I didn’t want to be one.
What I did know, though, was that I was making a shit ton of money and my
secretary administrative professional friends couldn’t pay their utility bills. They were driving old Buicks and I was in a Jeep Grand Cherokee.
That’s when I became a money hungry 5th grader doing odd jobs for my parents like raking our yard for a quarter per wheelbarrow of leaves. I wanted my Jeep. Although my desire for a Jeep turned into a desire for a Volkswagen Beetle which developed into a desire for a yellow Mustang convertible. (SPOILER ALERT: I never got any of those things.)
By high school I still wanted to be a doctor, but I wanted to treat animals and not gross feet. I’d had pets since birth and one time I had to give my goat a shot because her nips got all hard after she gave birth and I don’t mean in the good way. Felt pretty badass doing that.
I immersed myself in science classes and wrote my big English research paper on veterinarians but decided that I’d had enough of that after taking Anatomy I as a sophomore. Seeing the inside of a rat was enough for me. I’m not squeamish, I just couldn’t stand the thought of any more science. Plus, instead of professional medical terminology I’d rather just use terms like “her nips got all hard.” (And I even took a college class c
alled Medical Terminology.)
I’d always secretly loved history but pretended I didn’t because everyone thinks it’s boring.
I dunno, like, don’t you want to know the history of your nation?! Where you come from?! Hardly anyone does. I loved history because there’s nothing to figure out. Everything has already happened. The problems have been resolved. Life has resumed.
That’s actually a superficial way of looking at history, but I feel that way overall.
I wanted to be a history teacher. I wanted to stand at the front of the classroom and make kids take notes on things that I decided they should take notes on. I love history and I’m generally on a power trip and like to be the center of attention. Soooo…perfect.
Plus, I was good at it. —>7th Grade Geography Bee Champion right here<— Okay, geography is not the same as history, I just wanted to brag (see above: narcissist). We’ll talk about my Spelling Bee experience another time.
My best friend and I went to her house to study for a history test my junior year. Her GPA was higher than mine, but her ACT score was 11 points lower (there’s something to be said about applying yourself…something I stopped doing in approximately 3rd grade). I was breezing through the study guide, but she was really struggling.
I would give her the answers but she couldn’t repeat them to me five minutes later. Why is this so hard?? I’m spoon feeding you! Why don’t you get it??
That’s when I realized that if I became a teacher, I would face those questions every single day.
Done. I’m too impatient. Luckily, I realized shortly thereafter that I also don’t like kids. So my decision to abandon this path was the right one.
Occasionally, I’ll have regrets about not becoming a teacher. Usually around summertime. But if I were a teacher, I wouldn’t be a florist. And I LOVE my job everyday. Maybe I won’t be a florist forever, but I like it now and that’s what’s important.
I’ll probably have to write another one of these in 10 years.
What cool career did you want to have as a child??