How NOT to choose a career

I'm just a gay man trying to make it in a blue collar world. And let me tell you, it sucks ass. And not in the good way.

Picture of me in my deluxe cube ===>

Somewhere along the path of life, I somehow got shunted onto a decidedly non-gay trail. Perhaps I just wasn't paying attention or was bamboozled by some straight he-devil guidance counsellor. I don't know. But rather than going into a 'fabulous' career involving art, fashion, theater, or design like most of my bretheren- I became a glorified grunt in a factory. A fairly well educated grunt, but a grunt nonetheless.

This is rather mystifying to most people that actually take the time to get to know me. In the end, they usually think I should be in some form of entertainment (music, stand up comedy, theater, etc). But no. I maintain that I was brainwashed to think science was my 'thing'.

I did manage to squeak out a Master's degree in engineering- but its in a shitty discipline. Which obviously hasn't helped my career that much seeing as how I am still just a lowly worker-bee 15 years after college graduation. God, that $48,000 spent on my education was so worth it! Money well invested.

My life right now consists of driving out to a manufacturing facility in the absolute most rural area of North Carolina, toiling in a plant that smells like hot metal/kerosene/feet, and earning on average less than our electronic technicians who work overtime. (Contrary to popular belief- engineering pay is NOT that great). Imagine how happy I was when I found out my yearly salary is eclipsed by guys with a two-year tech degree who agree to work weekends? Truly heart-warming.

Sometimes I just stare at my office wall and start quoting Talking Head's lyrics "How did I get here? This isn't my beautiful house. Same as it ever was... same as it ever was...."

My craptacular job is brought into even sharper contrast when compared to my friend K-dog's. K-dog (I'll call him K9 for shorter) works in the beauty industry. He does NOT have a frou-frou job like spritzing cologne at people; he actually designs and plans runway shows for a well-known company. He gets to travel to exotic locations like London, Milan and Cleveland. He stays in posh hotels. Gets to meet people like Claudia Schiffer, Daryl Hannah and Sean Penn. K9 drinks apple-tinis with the rich and famous, within spitting distance from Paris Hilton and her army-o-skanks. Shit like that.

In addition, his job is located in a near-suburb of a big city in America. He, of course, lives close to downtown and commutes. The company he works for has amenities such as a health club, massage therapists, and yoga instructors in-house. They have an organic health food lunch caffeteria. He swears that when people fart there, it smells like jasmine and lavendar.

Not only do I have to work in an environment that makes a dirty diaper wrapped in burnt hair smell appealing, our caffeteria consists of 5 vending machines and 4 microwaves. Yes, if I want I can have peanutbutter crackers and diet coke for lunch. Joy.

Where did I go wrong? I'll tell you where. College. When I decided that I was 'straight' and needed a good 'straight' job that would please my parents. And a future wife. I thought engineering would be a stable, money making job that would support a family and give my parents something to brag about in the annual christmas letter. Forget the fact that I really hate math and hate getting my hands dirty.

Or maybe it all started further back- like in early childhood. Or the womb. Genetically, I guess I inherited some traits from my parents that predisposed me toward science and other geek pursuits. Damn my parents for getting me chemistry sets and legos!

I guess if you try hard enough, you can blame your parents for anything.