Not everyone is that happy with the road they've chosen though. With the unbearable stress of dealing with downsizing projects, unreasonable clients and far more disapproving bosses, seems like Big Bicep Barry has come to his own unfortunate crossroads lately. Fortunately he has abandoned any wayward plans of running away to set up a lucky tiki / vegetarian alfalfa produce shop on a tropical island somewhere as Beach Bum Barry.
Barry : Not sure what else I can do.
Paul : You could always go back to your primary degree.
Barry : Accounting?
Paul : True. I can't imagine you crunching numbers but you could be the hottie Clark Kent of accounting.
Barry : Hmmm...
Paul : Gym instructor?
Barry : Also possible.
Paul : Hate to tell you this again but male burlesque?
Barry : No!
Paul : Maybe a swimsuit model.
Barry : Not gonna happen. Hate Speedos. Prefer board shorts.
Paul : Hello, have you seen Daniel Craig? HAWT!
Barry : Very funny. Can you imagine me in Speedos? I'd be close to bursting.
Paul : Exactly my point.
Barry : That's not what I meant!
Paul : Can't you just leave me with my prurient fantasies?
Not sure what the man's gonna decide in the end ( not that I was much of a help :P ) but after I talked him down from his highly stressed state I think he might stick it out for a little while longer. After all, it's a family business.
Beach Bum Barry?
Financial woes have a way of changing one's perspective of course. Charming Calvin has just started on his own road but he's already finding it hard staying the course. Seems like he's questioning whether he picked the right career path especially since there's very little job satisfaction in what he does - and so he claims, very little monetary renumeration as well.
Just like Barry, poor Calvin has shown signs of veering off the engineering highway to find greener pastures in alternative careers such as education. Certainly the last field I'd have chosen myself since not only do I have passing acquiantance with the unforeseen difficulties of being a teacher ( seeing that both my parents have dabbled somewhat in education ), it's quite obvious that I also don't have the required temperament.
Student : Sir, could you explain again?
Paul : I just did that. Twice.
Student : But I didn't understand all that well the first time.
Paul : Tough.
Student : Sir, please.
Paul : Do I have to write it out for you? Perhaps print out little flash cards?
Student : Uh.
Paul : Google it!
Of course if the student resembled a hot version of Chris Evans / Brandon Routh even in the slightest, things could be different.
Hottie legal-aged student : Sir, could you explain this again?
Paul : No problem. Take off your shirt. Maybe the tight tee is constricting your thoughts.
Hottie legal-aged student : But ...
Paul : On second thought, take off your pants too.
Hmmm... I'd be tempted to reconsider my poor teaching attempts but even then, I'd still be wishing sorely for a caning rod ( Oooh... S&M! ). Patience isn't my strong suit, I'm afraid.
No, I am not cut out to be a teacher. Learnt my hard lesson years back during my house officer days when I attempted - and failed - to guide a budding student ( who'd found herself sadly stuck in the hospital after an appendicectomy ) through the divine art of geometry. Only the Hippocratic Oath kept me from strangling the sadly bewildered girl, I'm sure.