Catch-26

"So, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

The woman interviewing me for a temporary job today playfully replaced the standard "where do you see yourself in five years" question with this respectful inquiry. Either my three recently discovered grey (shockingly white, actually) hairs had gone utterly unnoticed or they counted for nada.

I'd like to be an agist, presumptuous middle manager, I mused.

I get it. I am at that point in my youth where I am too young to be taken seriously in a professional setting, but too old to use phrases such as "I'm just chillin'" or wear a pink tube top and/or faux fur covered cowboy hat to go clubbing. Carrie Bradshaw might call it a Catch-26. The awkward pre-teen years of adulthood. The Middle School of my post-educational life.

Should I reach for a tether ball, or a box of Garnier Nutrisse hair dye? I wish I knew.


TKP

*p.s.---Thank Goddess my blog is private now...