The other day, I had a short conversation with one of the administrators.

I opened with a “How are you?”, and she mumbled something back.

“Hey now. Don’t sugarcoat it,” I said, “Tell me how you really feel.”

And so she did.

Now don’t get me wrong. This was a water-cooler (or in our case, a coffee-pot) chat, and not some deep unburdening alcohol-induced rant. She replied with a protracted sigh and somehow, we got onto the topic of “Don’t you like what you do?”.

Apparently, she didn’t. She had other ambitions and other plans. “I like the people here. But if it wasn’t for the money, I’d be gone tomorrow.”

I was a little shocked. And I told her so.

“Well see here, Philippe,” (she used my full name to stress the fact that she probably knew more about Life — with a capital ‘L’ — than me), “Tell me, where would you be if you weren’t here?”

Huh?

Cat — damn motherfucking cat — caught my tongue. Nobody had ever asked me that before. So I stammered and stalled.

“Erm…me…? What do you mean ‘if you weren’t here’?”

“I mean exactly that. What would you do if you weren’t here at the department? What would your life be like?”

“You — you don’t get it,” I said a little frantically, “There is no other life. This is it. This is Plan A. My life has always been on Plan A. There is no Plan B.”

And with that, I whispered a little, “Oh.”

She nodded, knowing that I understood her point.

I guess it’s been particularly easy for me. I’ve always known what I wanted to do ever since I was in high school. I was to become a mathematician. I would teach. I would do research. I would graduate with top marks, then move to a foreign institution to finish my education.

And to a certain extent. There has been surprisingly few surprises.

Oh, certainly, working in mathematics day in and day out does tend to teach you a few of the harsh realities that faces the common scholar, but none of those realisations have been deal-breakers — more like the little idiosyncrasies you learn to live with in a relationship.

It’s always been Plan A. Always.

And I know that part of the reason is because I’m still young. I’m young, I’m lucky, and I’m, like, all sorts of awesome.

Still, it sort of blows my mind whenever I meet someone who isn’t doing what they should be doing. Five years ago, I would have been naive enough to give them a pitying look and say, “Do what you love,” and that would have been that.

Unfortunately, life is never that simple. People aren’t sure what they want to be doing. Or even if they knew what they wanted, they’re not sure if it’s something they can do.

“Anyways, I can’t leave,” she said, “People depend on me here. What would you do if I wasn’t here?”

“Probably curl up into a ball and cry.”

“Exactly.”