Ready...Set...Go?

The Job has really been grating on my nerves this month. I’ve been contemplating finding a new one, but have no idea what I may want to do. Remember when you were a child and the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” was the best question ever? The whole gamut of options was available to you, like a buffet of every food ever. But when did that same question become one that makes me want to curl up in the fetal position covered in my own sick?

I suppose the first step is to define “grown up”. When does one become a grown up? Is it a conscious choice, or do we wake up one day and realize we’re old and used up? Is it through the gathering of belongings, and with that, debt? The evolution of one’s beliefs and priorities? Is it the mark you make on the lives of others, good or bad? And what does it mean if I have an RRSP but still get blackout drunk? If I have my own apartment but could easily spend an entire weekend watching Golden Girls and feel it was well worth the time?

How the fuck should I know?

So let’s move on to step two: finding out what you want to do. How do people do this? Almost everyone I know is either in the job they went to school for and wanted or are in school on their way to doing what they love. I look at them and ask myself “What were you thinking majoring in English and minoring in Art History? How did you NOT know things would turn out this way?!” But even if I could go back and fix my ill-advised schooling choices, I don’t know what I would replace them with.

One of my favourite questions to ask people is “If money were not an issue and you could have any job in the world, what would it be?” For me, the answer is “Movie Stunt Man”. Because that shit would be off the hook. But I fear it may not be realistic.

So, to summarize: When will I grow up? No idea. What do I want to do? No idea.

Long story short, all of the above led me to the conclusion that I need to rewrite my resume and start pounding the pavement, for better or for worse. This, of course, led me to the indisputable fact that resume writing is the worst thing in the world. And before you jump all over me, I know there are things that you could argue are worse. Like syphilis or genocide. But that is an argument you would only make if you weren’t actively writing your resume.

And then, in the midst of my ennui, came the big news. My boss is preggers and word on the street has it that I’m the one people are looking to take over as manager when she goes on maternity leave. Those fools! I’m not sure how to feel about this. On one hand, it means my hellish job will only get more hellish. On the other hand, it could be a whole helluva lot more cash for me. I guess I’ll have to wait to find out what’s really going on. I’m betting that since it would mean a whole helluva lot more money, there’s no way in hell it will happen (our big boss would make Scrooge look generous. I mean, before Scrooge saw the error of his ways and became generous).

We’ll see. But while we’re waiting it’s time to write this thang.