don't know yet
an excerpt

Bingo indeed. Much as I have come to loathe the game, it is now my bread-and-butter. But to hear my parents talk you’d think I was a roadie for a grunge band, or a toll collector, or one of those people on 34th street who wear banana suits and hand out brochures for internet cafes. Or something similarly undignified and lackluster. Definitely not something Dad can brag about in the staff room. I’m not totally sure I would brag about it either. First of all, it’s not exactly a top-tier facility; the owner/director, Joe Schneider, is a tightwad of massive proportions, and our income is mostly from government funds anyway, so we’re perpetually understaffed and some of our stuff is kind of outdated. And while the “director” part in my job title sounds good, and I like the giving-lonely-old-folks-some-joy aspect, but the truth is, it’s not especially mentally taxing, not the way I was brought up to expect from a career. Sometimes I wonder what else is out there, what else I’d be good at. And a piece of me can’t help agreeing that I’m really too, well, smart for this- that with my education and intellectual pedigree I’m wasted in this kind of white collar job (as my folks sneeringly describe it). Am I really fulfilled or do I just wish that I were?