"Why don't you brand yourself as an ADHD expert?" she says. "There are all kinds of online courses. There is a market for this."
I start to whine. "That sounds so boring. I have a graduate degree. I already know what to do."
"I'm sure you're clever, dear, but it's possible that the world of education has evolved in the fifteen years since you finished night school. It's possible that people know new things about child development. And maybe there is something you could learn."
"I'd rather take a course on Herman Melville. Something purely impractical."
The career coach surprises me. "That I understand," she says. "When I was home with my babies, basically contemplating suicide, I chose to study various rabbinical traditions at the local synagogue. And I think it saved me."
It's clear to me that this person doesn't care so much *what* I do; it's just crucial *that* I do something. She sends me little e-nudges. She wonders if I have collected testimonials--and have I hired someone to design a website?
She is like my Yente. "Hodel! Hodel! Won't you be a lucky bride? He's young, he's tall! That is, from side to side....."
It's a great relief--and worth the many Venmo transactions--to have this person in my life.
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