Good Morning.
I've always wondered why people enter certain professions. Some gravitate toward a field where they have a talent, e.g.
Yo Yo Ma will play the cello, not go to law school although I'm sure he'd make a very fine lawyer. Some are clearly intrigued with the prospect of making money so they do go to law school or med school or they go into the family business that owns two hundred appliance stores around the country and die at the age of eighty-seven bored to tears but rich as Rockefeller. Others just sort of drift into a career; they get a job out of high school or college and stay there. Or they don't stay there and keep looking for employment that makes them want to get up in the morning.
There are professionals who strike fear in the hearts of the men and women who come in contact with them. The people in these fields probably don't mean to scare the daylights out of their clients or customers but they do. I'm thinking now of bankers who decide whether you get a mortgage or a business loan. I don't care who you are or how much money you have, asking a bank for anything, even a checking account, is very intimidating, and if you don't get the loan you need, you feel very small and unloved. Of course if you do get the loan, you're on Cloud Nine. Number two on my list is the dentist. Nobody wants to go to the dentist, unless you have a raging toothache and don't care if a wisdom tooth is pulled with a rusty pliers as long as someone shoots you up with Novocaine or whatever they use these days. I have a dentist who used to be an anesthetist so I can go sleepy-bye if I want to. I heartily recommend it. The cops also create a certain discomfort. When you spot a black and white in your rear view mirror, you sort of slouch in your seat and slow down to 15 mph. You may have done nothing wrong whatsoever, but all it takes is one time getting pulled over by a cop for speeding or running a red light and your brain is programmed to make you shrivel up anytime you see a police person, unless, of course, you need one to save you from a burglar or you get stranded in your car during a blizzard.
Judges are like cops. You don't mess with them, even it you're just a witness and not an accused. Judges are okay, of course, if they award you millions of dollars because somebody took out the wrong kidney, which brings me to doctors. Most of them fool around with body parts nobody should have access to, and most of them inflict either discomfort or embarrassment, but docs can also fix your back or your bronchitis and plenty of other stuff that wrecks your life. My doc is, in all seriousness, the greatest woman alive.
Even hair stylists can cause fear and trembling. It takes years to train a stylist to cut your hair the way you want it done, not the way he or she wants it done. I had a hairdresser who, on one occasion, talked on the phone while cutting my hair and sent me home looking like a porcupine. I had another, years ago when perms were still in vogue, who botched it up so bad that I wore a wig until the little snarls she bestowed upon me had finally grown out. Twenty years ago I found a fabulous stylist but she retired last year and I am still recovering from the shock.
I hate to leave things on a negative note, so I will name a few professions that make people happy. They include pastry chefs, puppeteers, and dog walkers. Let us think about these spreaders of joy for a moment: the baker who makes luscious little truffles, apple turnovers, and scrumptious baklava, the person who takes you back to your childhood with marionettes and fairy tales, and the lovely soul who takes care of your dog while you're at work and feeling guilty. The best dog service I ever heard of was a daycare outfit in Portland, Oregon called Virginia Woof. I like that. I like clever.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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