Way back in high school I took a test to see what career I could thrive in. Can you imagine my family’s shock (and laughter) when my results came back, and we discovered that my optimal path was as an exterminator?
While a super admirable career for many (and one I greatly appreciate), it definitely wasn’t the right one for me. For example, as a mother of three sons I pride myself in my ability to handle most things with aplomb.
Blood and stitches? No problem. I even pulled a few out of one of my son’s head one time.
I not only watched the Walking Dead episode in which intestines were a major theme (not giving away spoilers here), but I did it while eating spaghetti. Yeah. Hard core.
And yet a few weeks ago my grown-up self inadvertently squealed and dropped a shirt on the floor at the dry cleaners (fortunately it hadn’t been cleaned yet) and did the spider dance because I happened to spy an arachnid the size of a quarter inside the shirt. I was mortified.
My mind knows that is ridiculous, but my reactions don’t seem to follow what my mind dictates in that arena.
There it is. The idea of me being an exterminator was a great cause of mirth in my family.
Until I realized one day that I had become one!
I do find and help kill bugs for a living! It’s just that the bugs I face are in code. I replicate, find and report the bugs so our developers can squash them.
Soooo, joke’s on me. I have a job as an exterminator. The high school test was accurate.