My prof mentioned in class that the average Canadian will have something like 11 different careers over the course of their life.
Steve told me he’s not blindly loyal to the company he works for now, if it ends up becoming apparent that he’s not getting what he needs from them.
Both of these things concern me, mostly because change makes me anxious. I don’t like even the threat of it.
And yet, I’ve been lamenting the fact that I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up. Despite the fact that I’ll be 30 this year. Despite the fact that I specifically went back to school for Management in an attempt to make myself more marketable for the time when my children are in school and I go Back! To! Work! (I always thought it with exclamation points.) Leila, ever practical, simply proclaimed that “You ARE a grown up, Mommy!” to which I replied that therein lied the problem, my dear. She shook her head in amusement and went back to her drawings.
I had it all figured out, for a brief moment a few months ago, I really did. And then I started second guessing myself. Because while on one hand, three days a week at an office sounds wonderful (adult interaction! a paycheck! nice clothes!), it also almost fills me with dread (commuting. continued childcare. the monotony of a desk job that because it is part time, by nature has no real room for development or change).
I’ve pretty much almost completely ruled out the option of working full-time, like, ever. So there’s that. But the thought of pushing paper in a cubicle for the rest of my life makes me so preemptively bored that I want to scream. Alas, what is a self-indulging girl to do?
The fact remains that I’m not even going to finish this program until Spring 2012, so there is a very realistic possibility that everything (everything) will change by then. This ennui that is prevailing right now will pass, and the sentence opportunity of a desk job will smile at me and I will comply. Or not. But then… what?
Where do I fit in, when what I’m looking for is at an indeterminate place between Mommy-Dearest and Super-Woman. I don’t want to punch a clock and I don’t want to stay at home, but want to somehow take the highlights of both of those options and sew them together. But I don’t know how. To sew, I mean. (No, really.)
The more classes I sit in, brain churning about ideas that surpass the scope of this narrowly named “Human Resources Management” class, the more I wonder if the corporate world has a place for me after all. Or rather, if I have the place for it.
Then, ultimately, I feel like the Mother of all Flakes. The stay-at-home-mom who couldn’t hack it until her kids were securely ensconced into the realm of public school (more free time for me, dontchaknow.)
I want someone to tell me what to do. I want to ask a heavy, unanswerable question and have someone respond convincingly.
What should I be when I grow up?
Is this thing on?