Obviously, I missed the scene, but there’s a man behind a desk looking sternly at a woman. Maybe it’s a boss/employee movie. Or maybe the girl eventually becomes the boss and he is washing floors at the end.
I’m glad I don’t have a job like that. Not that I mind washing floors, but the nasty boss type.
“Did you want to be a hockey player growing up?” I ask.
“Nope. I wanted to be a ninja.”
I laugh. “Really?”
Hugo’s smiling. “Yes. My parents said there was no practical application in the real world, though they let me take karate for a while. Then it interfered with hockey and I had to make a decision.”
“Why did you choose hockey?”
He shrugs. “No idea. I don’t regret that because Dad was right. What would I be doing with a black belt right now?”
“Teaching others?”
“Maybe, but I’m not sure that’s a career. I mean, I guess it can be a career. I’m just not sure I could’ve made a career out of it. I’m happy with the path my life took.”
I nod.
“What about you? What did you want to be?”
“I don’t really know. I’ve had anxiety my whole life; when I realized it would get in the way of working, I was completely lost about what I wanted to be because I knew I couldn’t do any of those things while hiding under a desk hyperventilating. It got to the point where I knew I just needed to find something,anything,to be able to live.”
“That’s not the way to choose a career.”
Sighing, I shrug. “I’m actually happy about ending up here. I love my job. It might not be someone’s dream job, but I don’t know that there’s anything I’d want to do otherwise.”
“Even if you could choose anything? You’d choose to be a mascot?”
Laughing, I shrug again. “I don’t know. I love being Surry the Seal. I love working for the Golden Tides. Thereareopportunities for me to move up and do other things. I just haven’t wanted to pursue that yet.”
“I’m glad you like your job.”
His words are reminiscent of those my parents have said to me many times. Not quite condescending, but definitely not supportive. It makes my breath catch and I have to wonder if he thinks it’s lame.
“You don’t think it’s childish?” I ask.
Hugo snorts. “No.”
“It’s probably no one’s dream job. Kids don’t grow up saying they want to be a mascot.”
“Yes, they do!”
“Until they’re like… ten.”
He huffs. “There’s nothing wrong with being a mascot. Life shouldn’t be about what other people think of a jobyoudo. If you’re happy, that’s what matters.”
“I think so too. It’s not like I plan to do this until I retire.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really been able to think of many careers where I could make something of myself that my anxiety wouldn’t get in the way.”
“No. Let’s say that your anxiety isn’t a factor for just a minute. What do youwantto do? In an ideal world? Your absolute dream job?”
I sigh and close my eyes to think about it. Honestly, I haven’t put much thought into it because my life revolves around me trying to make sure my everyday circumstances don’t throw me into a tailspin and anxiety-induced breakdowns.
