I almost applied for a job washing cars at a car dealership in DeKalb, Illinois. I walked within eyesight the glass-paneled overhead door near the service department. They don't remember me there. I never made it in. I didn't try. I wouldn't have gotten that job. I don't have the calling. I am passionless in the face of bubbles, a hose, and a sponge. I display the failing nearly every day. I know there is something wrong with me. My high school football coach knew it too. For that one long half-day of freshman practice before I quit the team - coach saw it, he smelled it, he endured it and me...I made him sad, inside. When I turned in my helmet and pads, I didn't smile, but only because I was still there. The story doesn't really have a clear happy ending to job hunting or football. I walked back to my apartment, temporarily jobless, and I took up tennis. My guess is that coach is still sad, inside.
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