osodecanela | How to tell if you really like what you do for a living.....

So at lunchtime today my office manager walked into the break room (which incidentally also doubles as our kitchen & the physician's assistant's office) and announced the girls at the front desk (i.e. the entire office staff except for Ron and I) have each thrown in two dollars to pool for lottery tickets. Did the two of us want to join in? Two dollars for some five or so minutes of fantasy and daydream? Sure, why not? The super Lotto is up to 74 million, while the multistate mega millions is somewhere north of 140 million. Simultaneously the three of us said, "hey, we could all retire!" "Yeah, right!" It was all followed by giggles and laughter.

An hour later Oana came back with a photocopy of the Lotto tickets we purchased as a group. She and I looked at each other and asked (again simultaneously), "so, what do you want to when you retire?" More spontaneous laughter. "Well, I think I want to drop down to just a couple of days a week here," I said. "Would be nice to not have to charge for services." "Oh wow," she wondered, "we could turn this into a nonprofit!" We then looked at each other and laughed.

Last Friday, was the last day for one of my staff people. Nancy started working for me and just before she turned 18. She's 25 now and starting nursing school this fall. She's the third staff person over the years that done just that. She's gone from being the gum chewing teenager, replete with facial piercings and too much very dark makeup, to being the relatively confident young woman who wants to do something both for herself and for the community at large. Leaving work here however is a little bit like leaving the nest for her and her going away dinner was not without a fair number of tears on her part. During dinner, after a couple of good sized margaritas, I suddenly found her head on my shoulder as I picked up my fish tacos. She was crying. I put my arm around her and asked what was wrong.

"I'm going to miss working here." I hugged her tightly, awkward though it was, both of us still sitting at the dinner table.
"You're going to be just fine," I assured her.
"Don't you have mixed feelings about my leaving?" Her mascara was starting to run.
"This practice and the work we do here, has been my dream. You've been a part of it, but it's come time for you to pursue some dreams of your own. Every last one of us who comes from that immigrant/ethnic/minority background who gets an education and brings it back to benefit their community is an example for more of us to follow. Don't remember what Caesar Chavez said?"
"No Doc, what?"
"¡Si, se puede!" (Yes, it can be done!")