The Romanian Bridal Train of Regrets and the Dream Job of Life
How many people with 6 decades of life in back of them can say, “I have no regrets?”
Only the ones who are delusional.
How many people approaching retirement age can say they lived their dream job?
Only the ones who are very, very lucky.
REGRETS: Among the many regrets that trail in back of me like a rich woman’s bridal train are
- not marrying the one man who loved me more than his own life,
- marriages number 1, 3 and 4.
- attempting to go to college at the age of 18.
- not having my sister’s courage or ability to live on my own.
There are many more, but I have no doubt your list is just as long and probably a lot more interesting.
DREAM JOB: The dream job dropped into my lap after years of finding jobs that were one notch above, “Would you like fries with that?”
I was born butt first, folded over and my mom almost died twice while trying to give birth to me (as described in my blog entry called “Trouble”). It’s a joke in my family that I was born mooning the world and have been doing things backwards ever since. Here is but 1 example:
I became a secretary and then learned how to be one,
Yes, I barely passed the typing test. No, I didn’t know how to type a letter. How did I last more than a week? I wrecked my sister’s motor scooter and fractured my wrist when I went flying through a rock pile. Fortunately, it isn’t as easy to kill yourself when you don’t know what you’re doing with a typewriter.
A mere 3 days after riding to the emergency room on the back of a Honda 90, I hobbled back to work on one crutch, typing with my arm in a cast. After 6 weeks of watching the secretary next to me, studying how to construct a letter and sitting with a dictionary in my lap, I was proficient by the time the cast came off. 2 years later, I found out they had been planning on firing me but were so impressed with my tenacity they kept me on.
OKAY–SO WHAT ABOUT THE DAMNED DREAM JOB: There’s nothing like the job from hell to make you appreciate a good one. Being a secretary was like being a housewife–all of the responsibility but none of the power where the words like, “Would you like coffee, sir,” are mundanely muttered on a daily basis. To say it sucks the life out of you would be like saying it’s hard to breathe at the bottom of the ocean when you’re wearing cement shoes.
After graduating with a B.S., I was 36. I was free! Well…I thought I was free from the shackles of the secretary’s life. That’s when I married husband #3 and moved to California. What kind of job does a person with a B.S. qualify for in California?
(if you’re lucky)
You read that right. All those years of College and I was relegated to the bottom of the food chain. I wasn’t asking, “Do you want coffee?” I was asking, “Do you want me to lie over the door mat so you can wipe your feet on my back before your secretary gets you your coffee?”
By this time, I was wondering, ” Can my life get any worse?”
A year after I left that job, my mother passed away. That’s when I started working with people who have Developmental Disabilities (Cerebral Palsy, Intellectual Disabilities, Autism).
Most people go into the field of Developmental Disabilities because they have a relative with DD. Not me–I have a reputation to keep. The first month on the job I was assigned to a person whose name sounded familiar. I later discovered this person was a relative.
Yes. It’s true. I continued to do things ass-backwards, becoming a support coordinator first and then learning to be one.
What is the difference between a dream job and a drudge job?
IN A NUTSHELL: It’s the difference between working with people who appreciate you instead of working for people who look at you as a slave receiving an allowance.
- You’re the one who decides the hours you work, when to have lunch, and how you do the paperwork.
- You don’t wake up wondering what your boss, your employer or the world is going to do to you today, but look forward to the good you are doing for the world.
I’m fortunate to be in a field where having a disability is accepted, welcomed, and appreciated. And for that, I’m grateful.
But I still want to have my book published….