Guidance

I stumbled on a printout of this the other day, and I'm just throwing it out there for the hell of it.



GUIDANCE

Normally, he would have welcomed any interruption to the daily routine, but instead there was dull, hot resentment. It was what he felt whenever a stranger gave him that fake, “I’m-your-friend-and-I-really-have-your-best-interests-at-heart” smile. He hated the way things were engineered, the implication that what was about to happen was somehow special and could affect the rest of his life.

Terry had been in before him, and had whispered what to expect.
“He told me I should think about optometry or watchmaking. Why?”

When his name was called, he was ready. He opened the door to the storeroom that had been pressed into service for the occasion, and couldn’t help thinking “if this is so important, why is it happening next to the spare chalk?”

It was as just as he pictured it. The fake smile, the insincere handshake... There was a name, which he ignored, as he was not going to use it. He took the offered seat, catching a whiff of breath foul enough to make him wrinkle his nose and turn his head. This, for the next few minutes at least, would be Mr. Stinkbreath.

“So, James…” Stinkbreath leafed through some papers as he spoke. “You seem to be a very clever boy”.
Clever boy. As though he’s talking to a dog. Should I bark like a dog? No, best not.
“Favourite subjects… History, English and Art.”
Was that a question?
“Not too interested in sport, eh?”
That was, and there was that familiar note again. Why should his dislike of grovelling around in mud for a ball be treated like some pitiable disease?
“No sir”.
“Hmm…”
Yeah, pause you idiot, as though you really know what’s going on. You’re not going to know what hit you.
“James, according to your test results, you could probably excel at anything you chose to do…”
Right, here it comes. This will be fun.
“But tell me, is there anything in particular you’d like to be when you finish school?”

He left a calculated pause of his own and locked eyes with Stinkbreath.
See how this fits in with your forms and tables. 3..2..Now.

“A clibanarius.”

Open-mouthed bewilderment, right on cue. Now, go on before he says anything…
“A cataphract. An anchorite. Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem. A lanista. A hoplomachus. A satrap. Standard-bearer of Legio II Augusta. Prince-Bishop of Halberstadt. Grand Master of the Knights of St. John. Director of the East India Company. Great Khan of the Golden Horde. A lictor. An augur. Flamen Dialis. A psychopomp. Sheikh of the Mevlevi Sufis. Oba of Dahomey. Elector Palatine….
I don’t know.
I’m twelve, and I haven’t made up my mind yet”.

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