What Do You Do?

When I was a school-age SJG, in love with recess and gym class and all other non-educational activities, including lunch, no one ever asked me, "What do you do?" The answer was obvious. "Back off. I'm busy learning stuff I'm going to forget, immediately. Like basic math. One plus one equals let me get back to you." The matter of validating my existence came later. I don't remember anyone inquiring about my reason for being on this planet till my lil bouncing bundles of testosterone arrived. The implication was, "Can we assume you're doing something more important than just changing diapers?" My answer has always been the same. "I'm a writer." But that's not good enough. They want to know what I've written. As in, "We need proof." In recent weeks, I've started making up answers to "What do you do?" "Dog walker and kugel maker." "Nuclear physicist." "Professional Turkey Baster."


When the nurse, pre-colonoscopy, asked, "What do you do?" while inserting something sharp in my vein, I couldn't lie. "I'm a TV writer." I left out occasionally-employed TV writer, for that would've caused too much confusion and soul-depletion on my part, and at that point, post-prep, I had nothing left to give. "Anything I would've seen?" Here, at last, my moment to brag. "I write for the Porn Channel," I said. No, I didn't. But next time someone asks, that's going to be my answer. I told her about the TV movie I wrote for the Hallmark Channel. "Oh," she said, not terribly impressed. "When do I get the heavy drugs?" I was ready to get this thing over with, already. "Soon." According to my iffy early math skills, soon meant "add another hour to the equation." Finally, I was wheeled into the room where they examine tushies and other internal parts. "Be gentle," I said, before slipping into blissful twilight time. When I woke up, still groggy, I wanted to know if they found anything. They did. A couple polyps. Benign. Tanks God, as my grandma would say. Tanks God, indeed. Now I have five years to come up with a better answer to "What do you do?" before my next colonoscopy. Although... Champion Kvetcher is high on the list of options.