What's Your Major? (Problem)

I'm sure many non-teaching English majors experience this from time to time. But every-time, it reminds me of when I was little and would lose my, "baby," teeth. Without fail, after every tooth fell out, just a few days later I assured myself and my bloody gums that the experience was nothing to ruminate over. It was really not too bad. Besides, we got a quarter. But the next tooth's departure always hurt even worse than the last...

Tonight, while working at Dillard's Daycare Inc., I was helping two women find, "wool coats with a hood, that have a zipper," (which I hear is ultimately impossible unless you shop at Eddie Bauer... whose fashion brains have apparently been eaten by modern eclectic zombies... or something) and one of them asked me which high school I went to. Cringe.

Now, my boyfriend Patrick says that this is not as, "uncomplimentary as you might think it is," but I still take offense, especially when I am wearing a power suit, glasses—and sapphires.

I replied that I was not under 18, go to bed at 2am and had recently obtained a degree from Rocky Mountain College.

"What was your major?" She chimed.

"English... Creative-Writing." I said, picking rouge feathers from my new goose-down coat.

She then tossed out the excruciating, "oh, so why aren't you teaching?"

My jaw tightened and the down feathers ruffled.

"Well, I don't like kids—or teaching, for that matter."



Thanks... thank YOU for basically saying that I am a sub-par writer, and all I can do with my degree in Creative-Writing is teach creative-writing.