Hidden Stupidity

November 10, 2007 by Keli.

Stupidity is often obvious, like the malodorous scent of a skunk. Other times, it’s subtle, mild, undefined and slips in unexpectedly from typically trusty sources, such as parents, dear friends, mentors, teachers, beauticians or mail carriers. In my case, all conspired to change the course I’d chosen for myself.

Just prior to graduating law school, I was exceedingly fortunate in obtaining an almost perfect job. I loved my extraordinary boss. She hired me despite my being an average student from an average school whose talent, if it existed, was completely hidden to the naked eye.

I worked my way from an intern to a law clerk to a lawyer for a company that represented the movie/TV studios in labor negotiations. There was just one problem. I detested labor law like I detested finding a stray hair dangling from my mouth after an innocent bite of salad. My boss generously allowed me to continue to work for her while I hunted down the right job.

I desired a spot as business affairs counsel for a studio. My attainment of this position seemed as likely as my growing a beanstalk, climbing up and sharing a mug of hot chocolate with Jack’s giant. To succeed in my endeavor, I needed either: an ivy league degree, gilt-edged law firm experience, inside knowledge of the secret fetish of an important movie executive (not yet known by the rags), adoption by a Brangelina type couple or willingness to engage in unmentionable activities (as this is a PG-13 rated blog).

Not one to stand still, I opted to take virtually every business affairs attorney in town to lunch in an attempt to display my sparkling personality and to convince them that I was the chosen one. I ended up with empty pockets.

I did manage to nab several interviews, however. Even second and third interviews where I was certain the job was in the bag. Unfortunately, none panned out. My last one was particularly irksome in that I forgot how to speak English for a few brief moments while meeting with the head guy, a name brand producer.

“Nice to meese you,” I said charmingly after we were introduced.

Needless to say, I wasn’t even asked to sit down.

I’d made little headway. Soon after, almost everyone I knew advised me to seek work in another field of law. Business affairs jobs were hard to come by. And one needed plenty of solid experience. Where the hell is experience supposed to come from if no one is willing to give you a chance?

My boss suggested I go where all other newly minted attorneys go when first seeking employment: the government. Specifically, the District Attorney’s office. Even my dearest mom seconded that motion reminding me of the splendid benefits as did my friends, former professors and the beautician, even though she said the head D.A. was a terrible tipper. The postal carrier, tired of seeing me perched atop the mailbox, day after day, awaiting a positive response to the countless resumes I’d sent out said,

“Why do you do this to yourself? You like being rejected?”

Damn right I didn’t. But my sights were fixed. I didn’t want to work anywhere else. Picture an incredible craving for an ice cream sundae and settling instead for cold mashed potatoes. I didn’t want to stop trying. Yet every seemingly authentic human I knew advised otherwise.

I caved in and nabbed an interview at the D.A.’s office. I’ve relived that experience twice; once alive and in person, and the second time, in great detail in my book. I can’t bear to do it again here, not even for my cherished readers; so in summary, we mutually agreed the position wasn’t for me. And yes, a heavy, dust-laden legal treatise accidentally landed on the assistant D.A.’s foot with a fairly strong downward force, mid interview. I left knowing I’d not be back.

Despite the rumblings from all that chances of getting the job I wanted were slim, I finally found my perfect position just a few months later. Success had been lingering just around the corner despite appearances to the contrary.

I wonder how many of our dreams, large or small, are dashed or sidetracked, due to well meaning advice? I often hear complaints from readers who encounter stupidity in the form of unsolicited suggestions that go against the grain of their desires.

“It’s not going to happen.” “What’s the use?” “You can’t do it.” “That’s stupid.”

Beware of anyone who calls your desires”stupid.” You know what they’re really saying: “I’m stupid.”

Ultimately, the voice you must listen to is your own. Life is filled with good intentions. And you know where that road can lead.

Think for yourself or someone else will do your thinking for you.

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

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