Even as a little kid, I had well-grounded and apparent skill-inclined dream jobs. Even at the supposedly innocent age of 6, I was already acting like a little lawyer beaming with inquisitiveness, pacing the room, interrogating and unwarrantedly checking the school work of my other pre-school classmates. This would have merely been attributed to normal child curiosity or an apparent managerial proficiency but the skilful way I dealt with hiding the evidence (teacher’s note for my mom) in the form of an appearance request intended for my parents the next day by drawing on it just strongly proved that there was a potential lawyer or politician brewing in me somewhere. I really would have gotten away with my parents being unable to read the letter over my drawing of coconut trees, an island, a rainbow and a displaced ship had I been better at art, but then life had other plans for me.
Then one day, browsing through job postings, I realized I’ve always had and will always have the ability to be whoever I wanted to be. I have the uncanny ability of a subjective ability to objectivity. I knew what I was good at and knew what will never work for me. The jobs I passed by, though a mile away from my current industry and expertise were definitely jobs I could do and be good at. That was the start of an otherwise epic job application spree. All it took were a few clicks (more like few hundred) here and there. Advertising, Training and Development, Publishing, Services, the Academe, Social Work, Finance, Travel. All these jobs I knew I had the skill for, and all these jobs I have always wanted. I finally made the first move and now all I needed to do was lay back and wait.
The waiting didn’t take that long. The next day my email was flooded with pre-composed automatic letters of dispirited rejection. That was the day I thought I could be whoever I wanted to be.
Yet my belief never wavers.