School was lame. Adults were lame. Life, itself, was a series of lame events. None more so than Career Day.
These were the thoughts of Jim as he walked into the gymnasium for the Beaverbrook High career day. At least he didn’t have to sit through the tedium and ennui of Mr. Leekie’s calculus class, or the thinly-veiled bipolar disorder of Ms. Bentz, his English Composition teacher.
Jim suppressed the memories of Ms. Bentz’s painfully lame, manic, dark poetry, and checked out this year’s Cavalcade of Losers. These were the employers, the good corporate “citizens” of his home town with suggestions on how its young adults could plan for an exciting life serving hamburgers.
At least he wasn’t in class.
He had to admit, the selection was good this year, if pointless. There were some lawyers, some engineers from the city, and a large crowd of kids was milling around the booth hosted by a company in town that made web games. As if, Jim thought.
He sighed. This was his last year in high school and he still didn’t know what he wanted to do. His marks were good enough for university, but he knew his family couldn’t afford it — and the thought of taking all that debt was just too much. His family was on the verge of losing their house. He wasn’t supposed to know that, but he did. It was hyper-lame.
Then he heard a voice behind him: “Arrr Jim, have ye’ considered a life at sea?”