Mingleminglemingle

I believe that everyone should have a fantasy career. It doesn't have to pay well, it may not be half as emotionally fulfilling as one's real career, it may be truly soul sapping and unpleasant. But everyone has three or four things that they really dislike about their job- it's healthy to fantasize about a world where these peeves are absent.

For instance, I hate poison oak, sleet down my neck, lots of driving, and unreliable implacable scheduling. When I am cursing my fate, I say "I should have been a dental hygenist." I would never have to skip Pilates matwork because my knees are solid bruises. I could go to farmer's markets on my lunch break. I could scrape gunk off of peoples teeth, natter on about plants, and they wouldn't be able to talk back. Or escape.

C daydreams about the carefree life of property management. My coworker imagines her life as a flight attendent- pouring endless ginger ales in a clean blouse and pantyhose, every single day. We dream small, beset with the irritations of our everyday lives.

Last week, I got an e-vite to a career related meet-and-greet/social. I've gone to these in the past. Botanists are new to career building- remembering someone's name and having a business card is considered impressive go-getter evidence. Thus, everyone there is thinking the word "mingle" over and over again, hoping that networking conversations will magically happen. It's dreary. I really should go and practice my groupthink skills.

The Google ad for this e-mail is "Become a Dental Hygienist. Dental Hygiene programs near "

Well played, Google. Well played.