I don't like talking about what I do for a living. I go to these social gatherings now and then where people ask me and then when I tell them they look all enthusiastic for about twenty seconds because it sounds like something that should be interesting to talk about, even though in practice it's not. Then they come up with these stories about so-and-so who really wanted to be what I am but never quite got there, and inevitably they ask me why I chose my job. I dread these conversations. Perhaps I should explain.

You know those women who decided on a whim one day not to use contraception and are now complaining about getting knocked up and raising a kid? Don't you just hate them? Well, metaphorically speaking, I am such a woman. People kept asking me in high school what I wanted to be when I grew up and I got bored with telling them I didn't know, so racked my brains and gave them the best idea I had at the time and, well, since then I just haven't managed to think of anything better. That's the whole story. And now I'm here, I don't exactly like it, but I still can't think of anything better. Well I can, but, see profile re: infertility.

And to make matters worse (warning: middle-class whining about complete non-problems continues for another whole paragraph) my sisters are, metaphorically speaking, the infertiles who struggled for years to gain what I take for granted. Woe, and again I say woe is me. I like to say I inspired them. Whatever - point is they both chose the same career path I did, and they both strove hard for years to claw their way into my position whereas I skipped and hopped straight from highschool to uni to graduation to my first job in the minimum possible time, all the while trying (but failing) to think of a more appealing alternative. Yes, it really sucks being me.

I think I'm ready to get over it.

If the longest I can work full time without throwing some sort of "stuff all this I'm going to Morocco to find myself" fit is under a year, it's time to move on. Mr Bea, bless him, has been very tolerant up til now. He says, as if he's not directly contradicting himself, "Sure! Alternative Career Path A sounds perfect for you - go for it!" and also, "You know, the career path you're on suits you so well, I really think returning to it** is the right choice!" plus, from time to time, "Well, just don't forget to send me a postcard! With camels on it!"

The fact is, what little satisfaction I do derive from my job is completely offset by the enormous level of stress it causes me. Causes me, mind you - other people don't seem to respond this way. And there are many who find my job intensely satisfying, but for some reason not me. The bottom line is I've been trying to follow a career path I find to be highly stressful and mostly unsatisfying. I mean, it's just stupid, isn't it? Plus I'm not very good at it.

Also - and this is key - in the shit fight between Mr Bea taking the job he really actually does want in Singapore, continuing to do IVF, and devloping my career, developing my career got so totally done over by the other two it woke up in hospital in a completely foreign state where the authorities are still waiting for it to recover its memory so they can ascertain its identity and contact its next of kin. And no-one, it seems, has so far reported it missing.

To sum up.

Please help Bea discover her purpose in life. A small prize* goes to the winner.

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*Prize may be, like, really really small.

**Read "falling back on it".