What to Do

What to Do

Phil was full of himself. At least that’s what his sister told him. This particular morning, standing in front of his mirror, face half shaved, he wondered if she wasn’t correct. He looked at his razor. It was special. It had to be a certain brand, for a certain facial type and his shaving cream purchased at a beauty parlour where he had his hair cut every two weeks. Since a teenager, he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As far as he was concerned his sister didn’t pay enough attention to herself. His clothes were always spotless, much to the chagrin of his mother. He was finally told to wash all his clothes himself. “You want me to look presentable don’t you mother?”  “My dear, you always look like you’re about to go to some high level meeting or out on a date with that lovely girl from school.” After high school, it didn’t change. Except that he had to get a job. All he could get was a construction job while he started online University. He could barely tolerate his co-workers wearing the same unkempt clothes everyday. He did learn that he loved the outside work. The very thought of wearing a suit and tie everyday went against his new found preference. Being cooped up in a office, no matter how great the pay or prestige was, just did not sit well with him. Phil was stuck. He was not going to be a landscaper who got dirt under his fingernails. He wasn’t that interested in plants, or grass or crops of any kind. His university classes had all been directed at Law. It was interesting, but just hadn’t gripped him the way he thought it would. Journalism? He would have to work a lot of menial reporting jobs - society functions, dog shows, fairs. All very boring. There was no assurance that he’d land a plum anchor job at a TV station. Interviewing high level politicians didn’t happen if you hadn’t done the work to get there.  He finished shaving, making sure to clean his face of every bit of shaving cream. He changed his blade, put everything away in his shaving case, wiped up the bathroom, leaving it as pristine as it had been. 

The door bell rang. He heard his mother answer the door, greet whomever was there, close the door. Then “Phillip! There’s mail for you. A small package from your sister.” He sighed. “Put it on the hall table. I’ll open it after breakfast.” Under his breath he muttered. “I wondered what oddball thing she’s sent me this time.” The time before it had been a brilliant fuschia scarf. He had folded it up and stuck in the the back of a bottom drawer. As he closed the drawer, he could hear her cheerful voice all the way across the country. “Lighten up Phillie!” A fuschia scarf wouldn’t help him decide what to do with his life. He’d send her a thank you email anyway. Dressed in clean, pressed khaki pants and shirt, he went down to breakfast. He needed to have a good paycheque to get where he wanted to go, wherever that was. However, his father had always told him “A paycheque isn’t worth much if you don’t enjoy your job, Phil.”

“It’s not about earning a paycheck, it’s about doing 

something good that you believe in.”

~ Adam Kinzinger