Another weekend. Another Scalzi's weekend assignment. Extra credit: What did your parents want you to be?
Around seven or eight years old, I
comforted some little kid who fell down and went boom. As if saying
"Oh, did you hurt your boo boo?" meant I had found my calling as a
nurse. Could it be that my mother was a nurse and I just had no
imagination? My dad was a doctor. But the skull he kept in a bag in the
car freaked me out, so being a doc was out of the question.
I was on a nurse kick until I began
to realize that nurses were doctors' servants, not partners. I had a
real issue with the lack of respect and how quickly I could get fired
for my tendency toward insubordination [an early character flaw that
continues to this day].
Being a medical handmaiden was never going to be my strong suit.
Model, actor, reporter were other
professions I played at during grade school, high school, and college,
but never pursued except as avocations.
My mother was the one who noticed
that writing and performing in high school and college shows was
something I could do in advertising. I was appalled that she even
suggested it. You can't win a Nobel Prize in advertising I said!
Clearly I was delusional. Without
missing a beat, my mother managed keep a straight face and point out
that I could make money in advertising. And worry about the Nobel Prize
at a later date. Oh.
She was right. About the advertising.