A week ago, one of the kids I tutor didn’t show up for her appointment, and when I texted her grandma, she told me they tested positive covid. I saw them the day before, so she added, “You will get Covid. I will pray for you.”
I thought that was really nice of her. I prepared for the oncoming sickness, I vacuumed, caught up on laundry, and filled the fridge with groceries. I didn’t want to have to deal with these things with covid, which always makes me feel like my joints are broken. Plus, I had a lot of things going on that week; G had a book report, they both had a math test, and I had a job interview.
Not to toot my horn, but my cover letter was five stars. The day of the interview, I still felt unaffected and showed up looking like a professional anything-you-want-me-to-be. Midway through the interview, it dawned on me that I had zero experience with the would-be job.
Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t rocket science, but I’d be Chat GPTing the shit out of my daily responsibilities. After four months, I’d realize it’s not a lack of talent but a lack of passion limiting my love of the position.
My motivation was slightly off. It was an administrative role at an elite private school, so I figured the lateral salary move would be offset by a significant tuition reduction for my kids attending, a stipulation I’d make after they offered me the job.
I think they figured out, too, that they should hire someone who has a solid knowledge base instead of a person who just has confidence. I had a lovely time talking with the hiring committee, but I forgot to send a thank-you email afterwards. My subconscious was helping me out.
After the interview, I picked up the kids and we came home to work on this book report and study for math tests. Midway through, it was discovered my son didn’t have his antibiotics, and we needed to go pick them up from his dad’s. I had been pajama’d since we walked in the front door and wasn’t about to change. I threw a bra in my purse in case of an emergency, and we went and picked them up.
Back at home, I thought about another looming responsibility: I needed to tell my kids that my parents’ dog had passed away. It was hard on my parents, and I knew my son would take it just as badly. The dog started as ours nine years ago, but when my plate was overflowing, my parents came in and scooped up this dog, who they quickly fell in love with.
I put off telling him for almost two weeks because he always has so much homework to do, and then he has soccer on the weekend. I knew once he heard the news, he’d need the rest of the day off. I told them on a Saturday after his soccer game. G acted as I expected. He was totally wrecked, and I sat next to him for an hour. Kiki acted as expected; she’d poke her head around the door and mouth, “Where is my iPad?”
I mouthed, “No iPad!” And waved her away, noticing a slight pain in my elbow.
My daughter and I went to a musical the next day. We got all gussied up and had a great time. As we were walking from the theater to the car, my daughter fanned out her sundress, and a young man slowed down in moving traffic and, out the window, said, “You look great in that dress.”
She looked at me, confused, and asked, “Is he talking to you?”
I confirmed I had a bra on and said, “No, babe. He’s talking to you.” She smiled and said that was nice of him, totally oblivious to stopping traffic with her ethereal glide up the sidewalk.
Today, as I packed up after teaching a class, the next group of students came in. They’re mostly young men heading towards a career in engineering, a field much closer to rocket science, and probably at risk of being Chat GPT’d the shit out of as well.
I eavesdropped as this kid was talking. He said he always wanted to work on cars and got certified as a mechanic, not knowing it was unnecessary when he was hired at a dealership. He said, “The guy who trained me at work is the dumbest person I've ever met in my life.”
I turned around to erase the chalkboard and laughed. This kid’s anger was coming across as hilarious. As I erased the chalkboard, my elbow joint hurt even worse. It might be psychosomatic, but I can’t get covid in only one joint. I’m probably developing tennis elbow from erasing chalkboards because I teach like an old-fashioned lady.
An entire week passed, and I’m confident I did not get covid or a new job. I think anyone could probably do any job out there, especially with some help from the computer gods. If thats the bar, though, it’s pretty boring. There really has to be a desire to learn everything, to notice things that can’t be bullet-pointed and iterated. There is so much information to glean from the obliviousness. Really, it's all the good stuff, the stuff that makes you smile, or gives you tennis elbow.
No comments:
Post a Comment