What Color is My Margarita?

What color is my Margarita?

I, like so many others, was not born with the gift of knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Hold me Mom, I don't ever want to grow up.

I never had the burning urge that I was meant to check the function of men’s bladders or women’s for that matter. I also knew from my first stick figure that ‘artist’ was definitely out of the picture. The same goes for anything dealing with spacial ability, 6 way ANOVA’s, annotating or footnoting papers, working for the “man”…the list goes on and on.

I tried so many things: Real estate school (Boy was that boring!) and by the time the State exam rolled around I was on to something else.  I worked for the government for a couple of years. I had the power to fight with utility companies that were ripping people off, that was fun. But I moved out-of-state and decided to stay home with the kiddos. [Read between the lines: I waited tables and tended bar on the weekends for the missing cash.]

Somehow I worked my way into healthcare administration and had the power to fight insurance companies for the “man”. Years later I finally finished a bachelor’s degree and then became certified to teach Social Sciences to high school kids.  This notion was stopped dead in its tracks by a dear friend who said I was way too “raw” to teach in public school. Ok, I do like to throw in a few hundred swear words every minute or two, but for fuck’s sake I grew up in New Jersey.

So where does that lead me…

Well I needed to take a good hard look at what I enjoyed. Somehow sitting poolside with someone rubbing my shoulders, drinking a margarita on the rocks (hold the salt), overlooking the ocean with good friends wasn’t anywhere on any job site I perused. (Don’t forget the steel drums in the background or is it Jimmy Buffett?)

Anyway back to reality, hmmm maybe Human Resources? That would only work if I could be the employee’s advocate not the companies.  I know, advocacy and arguing = law school. Ding, ding, ding…

Oh yeah, the papers and classes and everything in between makes me feel like sticking hot pokers in my eyes (much like the thought of scrapbooking) so that couldn’t be my “burning urge”. So, off to a more esoteric slant on things: Martha Beck’s “Steering by Starlight: Find Your Right Life No Matter What!”.  Great book, but I’m having a hard time applying it because basically, I really do want to sit poolside, drink margaritas, get a shoulder massage and enjoy conversation with my girlfriends.

Aha! I know, I’m going to “secret” it…. and in the meantime I’m going to go to the bathroom more frequently to get rid of this “burning urge”.

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2 responses to “What Color is My Margarita?

  1. Kathy Catanzaro

    Juliet,
    I totally understand. It is the lucky few who know what they want to do with their lives. The rest of us fall into something.
    After many years waffling, ok partying, I got a job in the industry I am in now. Plus my Dad told me that I had no work ethic and hooked me up with the job. Anyhow, fast forward, I hated most jobs I had in this industry until I got the one I have now. The people and their attitudes can really changed my outlook.
    I guess what I have learned is that sometimes it is not what you do.. but who you do it with that can make all the difference.
    Good luck in your search.
    Love ya,
    Kath

    • I agree Kathy, if you enjoy your co-workers things just seem to flow better and going to work becomes less of a chore. Jason and I are still friends with people we met at a job in the mid 90’s. Granted we were young and hell of a lot more fun (well maybe) and it was the restaurant business, but it did make a difference.

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