Cindy
Droog
Read Cindy's bio and previous columns
January 7, 2008
Dreams of My Son’s Career: Brian Williams, Yes, a Cubicle, No
When I was pregnant, my
husband and I fantasized about what our son would be like. Before he was
even a newborn, we imagined him as an adult. My husband pictured an
ethical Senator, as he believes they do still exist. Perhaps even a
future presidential candidate the likes of John F. Kennedy.
As for me, I pictured a
famous journalist. No less than a Brian Williams, who’s serious enough
to travel with the troops, yet holds the sense of humor to host Saturday
Night Live and actually be good at it.
Now that he’s 18 months
old, we still believe he could be those things. But we’ve also come to
accept the fact that he has his own imagination, and his dreams will be
different than ours. At this point, all we can hope is that word
“cubicle” isn’t in his adult vocabulary. Unless of course, he really
wants it to be.
Thus was our
conversation the other night after giving him an empty diaper box and
watching what he’d do with it. First, it was a car. Then, a bed for
Elmo. Then, turned upside down, a stove with pans atop it. So, if that
behavior is a crystal ball, he might be a limousine chauffeur. A doctor
caring for a patient. Or the Emeril Lagasse of the next generation.
After he went to bed,
we had to laugh. For if it was our box to fantasize with, we know it
would have been either a Plinko game or a large map. Let me explain.
Fostering imagination
in our kids is one of our top priorities. And it shouldn’t be difficult,
because my husband and I both have active fantasy lives. When American
Idol comes on, I’ve been known to use my wine glass as a microphone and
belt out Mariah with the best of them. During the Iowa caucus, my
husband gave me, word for word, what his concession speech would have
been if he were John Edwards.
We often talk about our
fantasy careers. In real life, he’s a salesman. Exciting, right?
As if my career in
corporate communications is one that is oh-so-coveted. For that matter,
both salesmen and public relations executives are notorious for being
ethically questionable and full of spin. He and I are trying to shatter
those perceptions, but it’s not always easy.
So it comes as no
surprise that we’ve often longed for careers that didn’t involve an
uphill battle, had nothing to do with cubicles or rental cars, and were
easy to explain to our grandmothers.
As for me, I dream
about being a Barker’s Beauty on The Price is Right. They might be
called “Drew’s Dames” or “Carey’s Cuties” today, but the premise
remains. Someone else does your hair, makeup and wardrobe every day. You
look amazing. You hug grandfather clocks; sit in hot tubs that aren’t
filled with water; smile a lot; and wear great jewelry that you’re not
responsible for keeping track of.
My husband also dreams
of a career in television – as a meteorologist. A man obsessed with
weather, he isn’t satisfied with what he should wear the next day unless
he’s checked the predictions from ABC, NBC, CBS, the Weather Channel and
at least a couple of web sites. He’s a morning person, too, so getting
up at 4 a.m. just means he’d get to enjoy bacon and biscuits sooner than
normal.
Of course, meteorology
doesn’t quite hold the same accountability as sales, and that’s quite
the selling point. Meteorologists get paid the same salary if they’re
only right half the time. On the other hand, commission-based salesmen
get nothing if their prospecting efforts are off.
These are just some of
the concepts about making career choices that our young son doesn’t
understand yet. I guess all we can do right now to keep him from
becoming a chauffeur is keep our TV tuned in to game shows and the
Weather Channel.
We don’t want to
squelch his dreams, but we can cross our fingers and hope it sinks in.
© 2008 North Star Writers
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