“If I don’t get the police job, I think I want to go to motorcycle mechanic school.”
I turned to my fallback, a drawn out, “Okaaaayyy,” while I absorbed his comment and organized my thoughts. “Why are you already worrying about not getting hired by PD?”
I already knew the answer- the recruitment process is long (we’re talking 6 months long) and patience is not one of JD’s virtues. He always needs to have a backup plan. It’s how he manages stress. Unfortunately, I am the exact opposite. I believe in patience for the things we can’t control, and a “one thing at a time” approach. I think that worrying if he’ll get hired, if he’ll like it, and how often he’d get shot at is enough stress for now.
I humored him for a while, asking questions about the school. He told me the only schools are located in Florida or Arizona.
In JD’s world, quitting our jobs, selling the house and moving 600 miles away sounds like a fun adventure. In Jenny’s world, that sounds ridiculous.
Anyway, I knew this had to be misinformation. There’s no way every motorcycle mechanic in the country has travelled to either Florida or Arizona for school. It turns out, these are where the only dealership-sponsored schools are located. There is a program at a school nearby, it’s just not quite as good. I told him it’s a possibility and we could look into it if it doesn’t work out with PD. Of course, by now, the whole “not worrying about things I can’t control” mentality has completely flown out the window. JD and his plans are so exhausting.
Both of us moving to Florida is out of the question, and ultimately, neither of us wants to be apart for a year so he can go to school, but my mind has gone straight to the worst-case scenario anyway.
I’m picturing him living in Florida, taking classes with a hot motorcycle chick reminiscent of Megan Fox (when she’s working as an auto mechanic in Transformers). Isn’t this every man’s fantasy? A hot chick who isn’t afraid to get greasy?
JD asked me if I wanted to learn how to change the oil on the car once. I think my exact reply was, “I have zero interest in doing that. That’s your job.”
I might rethink that if he ends up going to school in Florida.