Why did I sign up for Career Day? No one wants to work in a restaurant. They think they do because the food is so delicious, but after watching it get made a million times, the savor fades away. I would be a skinny chef if I was still a chef. I still get to go to Career Day and talk about my job, but I don’t have that job anymore. It seems too late to back out now. After all, Principal Gull is counting on me. She told me so in her reminder text this morning.
I clasp my hands tightly together as I wait my turn. I feel the sweat pooling in my palms, but I don’t let go. Speaking in public makes me nervous under normal circumstances and these are particularly stressful times, so I need something to hold onto. The principal calls my name. She offers me a thumbs up and a wide grin.
I step to the podium and place an hand on either side of it, clutching it like a life vest in turbulent seas. “Hello, everyone.” I look out at the sea of youthful faces and my mouth dries up instantly.
I swallow hard and begin my prepared speech. I have given it a couple of times over the years, usually to prospective students at the culinary academy that is my alma mater. I have repeated the words so often that they flow naturally from my mouth with no trace of my own burgeoning distaste for my chosen profession. I see a few young faces perk up at the thought of plating beautiful and delicious meals for appreciative gourmands and relax a little before finishing up and resuming my seat to mostly polite applause.
After all of the parents finish speaking, the principal leads us down into the gymnasium for a meet and greet with the students. None of the students shows much interest in the culinary joys offered to a professional chef. A chemical engineer and a phlebotomist join me around the punch bowl to lament the lack of initiative of our children’s friends.
“You’d think my own son would come over to talk to me,” the chemical engineer sighs over his punch.
“No, you bloody-well wouldn’t.” The phlebotomist rejoins, laughing.
I smile and keep my punch glass pressed to my lips, so I don’t have to offer my own opinion. As the phlebotomist gears up to make another pun about blood, I make an excuse to begin casually walking among the students. I am certain that none of them wants to chat with me, but I also know the principal expects me to mingle at least a half hour longer. I am almost ready to make my apologetic goodbyes when I overhear the heartbreaking gem of the day.
My daughter surrounded by her friends has no idea I could hear her when she declares, “You can be a chef, but don’t be like my mom. She loves the people she cooks for more than me.”
~~I may need to remind myself more often to spend time with my kids. Maybe they make so many messes because they are under the mistaken impression that I love to clean the house and will play with them more if they give me more opportunities to clean it.~~
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