When hearing this for 485126th time from my parents, I can’t help but utter, “Well, slicing open bodies, stabbing needles into others for vaccination, and delivering bad news to family members along the lines of ‘I’m sorry, he didn’t make it’ hasn’t been something I’m looking forward to in the next 15 years.”

And then they retort with a, “Hey! You’d be saving peoples’ lives here. And making a bunch of moolah to boot! There was this one time where I was checked up by a doctor for only 2 minutes, and I payed the man $300 bucks. Imagine the money!”

And then I respond with, “Parental units, as much as I’d like to earn all this said MOOLAH, the term doctor and the name Austin don’t roll well together. And I’m sorry, I can’t take up an occupation that doesn’t flow with my name. It’s almost unheard of.”

And, in reply, they say, “With your study skills, with your grades, with your large head, you’d surely make it into medical school. Hell, I’ll even sell the house just for you to attend medical school.”

“Dad, Mom, please. As grateful as I am that you’re willing to sell the house for me to be a doctor, as grateful that I am that you want the best intentions for me, and as grateful as I am that you do not threaten me to scrub behind the toilet, despite how filthy and uncharted that territory is, I just don’t want to be a doctor.”

Their response: “Be a fucking doctor.”

REWIND! And play the more accurate dialogue of the conversation taken place:

(after hushed conversations)
Parent(s): Austin, be a doctor.
Me: Why?
Parent(s): They save peoples’ lives. They make a lot of money. They rock our world.
Me: Dad, I just really don’t have the intention of going into the medical field.
Parent(s): Come on, with your grades and your study skills, you’d surely get into medical school.
Me (jokingly): Honestly, really, I’d rather be a garbage man or one of those people who juggle real estate signs on the corner of the street. They do make $40 an hour, right Billy?
Billy (brother): For surely!
Parent(s): Son, just be a doctor.

As accurate, exact, and veridical this conversation is, I’m not quite sure how believable it is for parents to use the phrase “rock our world.” So, excluding that single part, every thing else is quite authentic, in terms of what was actually said. I’m not well aware of the hourly wages of garbage men or those who flip real estate signs on the corner of busy intersections, you see.

What profession would you like to pursue? Or, if you are already in your dream profession, what is it and why did you choose it? And, do you have people who flip signs on the corner of the street? Or is it only where I seem to live?