Ballet Dream

My mom says that I have always wanted to be a ballerina, even as a little girl. I guess I just love how they can go around the whole day wearing their pink tutus and dainty little pointes. And ballerinas all seem to embody grace and elegance and everything beautiful that I want to be in my life. They’re just like fairies. I never did anything about my passion for ballet tho, never did more than hoard all the ballerina trinkets I can get a hold of – picture frames, posters, notepads. They’re all over my house.

So here I am, not up on a stage performing a classic art and being thin and lithesome and wearing pink all the time, but instead working as an accountant who cries over some guy who owes my client a huge sum of money. It’s actually his company’s debt, but his business partners have all abandoned him and he doesn’t expect that they’d help out so he’s taking it upon himself to settle the debt the best he can. So he can start out anew, he said, and so that he can rebuild his reputation and approach banks to finance his new business venture. He related how he even mortgaged his family home already and how he has to deal with an estafa case filed by another creditor. At the end of the meeting he even had the balls to apologize to my client for the way things have worked out. That guy broke my heart, sitting there all dignified and earnest, despite the blows that life has dealt him with.

And my friggin job is to milk the most out of him. I should never have been a here at all. I’m not cut out for these things, I swear. And we’re not even talking about defending a child molester or something.

It’s times like this that makes me wish I had studied ballet seriously, or that I could migrate to the States and flip burgers at McDo or be a cashier in some posh shop and get first dibs on season-ender sales. Or be anything at all. Anything other than a friggin accountant.