My mother had it in her head that when I grew up I would be something fashionable and professional.
She looked at me as being the next Doctor Fauci, Attorney General, or member of the House of Reps.
All I wanted to do was be an Heating plus Air Conditioning worker. I didn’t need to have a fancy high-powered job. Mom was so infuriated with me she wouldn’t speak to me for weeks. All of us started chatting shortly after she finished her silent treatment, and she explained why she thought it was necessary for me to be a professional. Her father had disowned her for marrying a man who wasn’t a professional. He wanted her to have a doctor, a dentist, a lawyer, or a politician in their family, despite the fact that she married my dad, who was a humble mailman. Her father, whom I have never met, told her she needed to raise her children to be professionals, and he didn’t believe a Heating plus Air Conditioning worker was a professional job. She told me that if me being a humble Heating plus Air Conditioning worker was going to make me happy, that was fine with her. She just wanted me to be happy. I was afraid to tell I asked my best pal, who was the child of the Heating plus Air Conditioning corporation, to marry me. She also thought I had better marry someone of Indian descent. This could be the final strike, and only 1 more strike and I would be out. I figured I would take it slow and not tell her I wanted to get married. I wanted to get her used to me being an Heating plus Air Conditioning worker before I threw too much more at her.