Do you love what you do?

I’m sitting at a cafe, taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi, and cannot find a way to start another blog entry for the Travel category, and I see a middle-aged man sitting at the table across from me. He  dresses in business casual, with grey dress pants, grey like some of the streaks in his hair and stubbly beard, a plaid button up blue shirt, untucked, of course, to keep the business casual. I noticed a black leather bag next to the table, like the one you would think of when listening to the word “professor”. Exactly, that one you just thought of right now. I can only assume he’s a professor, not only by the black leather bag, and the San Marcos State University being literally across the street, but also by the stack of papers in front of him. He stares at them for a while, with the type of disappointed, but not angry, stare one gives a pet who peed inside the house, after a long time of not doing so. He stares at each paper, one at a time, for about a minute, then scribbles something on it, or throws an unmotivated quick dash at it with his red pen, and continues to stare at it for another minute through his reading glasses.

He accidentally drops one of the papers and it lands on the floor. He takes a breather and sighs deeply. The white paper floating downwards catches the corner of my field of vision, and then my eyes meet his uninterested, bored face of noon on a Wednesday. He seems unhappy. Maybe I’m judging too quickly, this could be his everyday character.

A table clears next to a window. The professor immediately throws the stack of papers from his table to the one just cleared. He tosses the potentially midterm papers as if the table 3 feet away from him would be promptly taken by someone else in the half-empty cafe. The papers predictably scatter across the table once they land. He seems unhappy. Is he though? I’m not about to ask him, maybe he had a rough morning… for the past few years.

Whether the Professor is sad or secretly the happiest man in the world, I’ll never know, but this thought process made me revisit an old cliché we’re all told as we grow up in anticipation of our future careers: “Do something that makes you happy”. I ponder on this as my vanilla latte is three-quarters done, and, as I’ve answered this in the past, I nod my head in response: “Yes, I am happy with what I do”.

Although attitude plays a tremendous role in how we perceive what we do, whether it is a dream job or a stepping-stone, this old saying is true. One should seek to do what they enjoy, what they are passionate for, and use this as the primary decision-making factor when selecting their future. I am fortunate enough to have a career as a Registered Nurse that allows me to not only bring joy to others, by aiding in restoring their health, but at the same time, brings joy to me, makes me feel fulfilled, and I’m passionate for. I am privileged to care for the acutely ill in the hospital setting as well as educating those with chronic medical conditions as outpatients.

The professor takes a break from his papers, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently and looking in all directions except the A+’s, F’s, and everything in between, that lie before him. Every dream job must have parts of it that are less desirable, too, like grading papers. As a nurse, I do not look forward to documenting on patient’s charts and, as I do so, I don’t have the widest smile painted on my face, but it’s something that needs to be done as part of my job. Surely, after this cafe session, the Professor will go to his class and, once the students with the failing midterms finish asking their “but why?” he will begin the part of his career he likes the most and is passionate for: teaching.

As I notice my cup is now empty, the Professor gives one last sigh, a sigh of success as he is done grading his papers and rearranges them into one big stack and puts them away in his black leather bag. He checks the time on his phone and leaves the table with his bag. As he walks past me, he says: “I’m not unhappy, I do love my job”.

Ok, maybe I made up that last part, but that’s what I choose to believe, with the hope that the Professor, myself, and all of us choose to do what makes us happy.