You know, here’s a funny thing. I always did great in school. Breezed through math, chemistry, physics. Everyone assumed I was going to be something important. Prestigious. A doctor. An engineer. A scientist. Something my parents could brag about, you know?
When I was a kid, I used to say things like: I want to be a woodworker! I want to be a hairstylist! I want to be an electrician!
And everybody said to me: don’t be ridiculous. Silly little girl! You’re so smart! You don’t want to be any of those things! You want a heavy acronym degree and a home in Martha’s Vineyard. You want a big desk, a country club membership, 2.5 cars and a purebred dog.
So I went to a really, really fancy college. And I studied fancy things. And I hated it.
Like, don’t get me wrong. I thought math and chemistry and things like that were interesting. But the idea of being in school for 7 years and then launching into a Respectable Career filled me with dread. Couldn’t I study science and math as a–a hobby? And maybe, you know, become a carpenter instead?
Everybody was fucking flummoxed. I was, no shit, referred to a psychiatrist. Because if someone is capable of becoming a doctor, they must be literally insane to want to do blue collar work instead.
I like doing things with my hands. I like spending several hours bent over a task, and having visible results at the end of it. I like solving concrete problems that have straightforward solutions, like: this person’s fingernails need to be repaired, or this shelf needs to go up, or I need to make a dress for a party. Sometimes, while I do those things, I think about math and science. And that’s nice. But that’s just something to keep my mind turning over while I happily cover myself in paint, wood glue, thread trimmings, whatever.
The structure and routine of white collar work sounds stifling and depressing to me. I don’t need much money to be happy, certainly not Doctor Money. Blue collar work sounds perfect to me. It always has. It sounds satisfying and fulfilling and it would meet all my financial needs. So why do I feel this weird cringe when I talk about making the change? Why do people act pityingly about it, like, oh, she just couldn’t Cut It at a “real job?”
Sure, a lot of people take blue collar jobs just to pay the bills. A lot of people take white collar jobs just to pay the bills. But is it so completely goddamned inconceivable that somebody might actually prefer blue collar work? That for some people–people with “options,” people who could be doctors, if they were so inclined–hairstyling or bricklaying or car repair is the dream job?
“You don’t want to be a ______” well maybe I fucking do.