I Am Going To Hang Up My Pant Suit

28 Aug

And trade it in for a pair of sweatpants and a football jersey.

Tom and I were talking last night about how we wish we knew four years ago what we know today. If I had started my business four years ago the business would be more successful and we wouldn’t have had to deal with all of the stress of being flat broke like we did for a number of years. For example, we sold his huge vintage video game collection for $200 to be able to pay the rent one month. At the time it was for survival, but looking at the values of those games on eBay it almost makes me sick. Conservatively we could have gotten $2500 if we sold them on eBay. Ouch.

As we stood in our kitchen last night we were talking about jobs. It has been almost ten years since my very first job interview to become a costume character at our local theme park. Wow time flies. Anyway, as we were talking I got this horrible anxiety. I realized that the thought of punching the time clock, wearing a uniform, working under another persons rules and wearing that dreaded pant suit to another interview ever again made me sick.

I don’t see how I could ever go back to that. I don’t think I ever will. I enjoy working in my basement in my gym shorts and tank top riddled with holes too much. I enjoy blasting Usher and drinking a glass of wine at closing time. I have gotten used to getting to see my kids whenever I want and when it is nice outside and I want to play with my kids I don’t have to call in sick to a job. The boss lady told me I could go admire the zebras at the zoo for the millionth time.

At some point in the course of this conversation we were talking about going to school. I don’t need a degree to do my job. I want one, but not at the expense of our finances, our family or my job. The conversation went something like this:

Me: I kind of see getting a degree like getting a boob job and a nose job right now. It is kind of a selfish thing to do when the kids are small and we don’t have the savings I want.

Tom: Yeah. But my degree is more important.

Me: Well, yeah. Your degree is important like… (I tried really hard to think of an equivalent to my boob job/nose job analogy)…like your leg getting cut off and you needing a fake leg… or you getting gallstones and needing surgery to remove your gall bladder.

Tom: *Blank stare*

Me: Well? Which one would YOU do first?!

Tom: Um…..I would…uhhh? I would probably get the leg…yeah…I would get the leg.

I was pretty confused by his hesitation until I realized he thought I wanted him to chose between the gall bladder surgery vs the prosthetic leg. I definitely wanted him to chose between the cosmetic surgery vs the medically necessary surgery. Why he decided getting a prosthetic leg is more important than getting gallstones removed is beyond me.
Moral of the story, absolutely nothing beats a glass of wine and chatting with my husband at the end of the night.

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