“So, have you decided what you want to do with your life?” asked Dr. Midlane.
Albert shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. I mean, how did people choose a hundred years ago?”
Dr. Midlane leaned back in his seat. “Well, most weren’t troubled with the burden of choice. They did what their parents did.”
“Yes. Very few were educated, or even had access to education. Children learned the family trade. It was the only education available to them.”
“That’s awful. I can’t imagine living that way,” said Albert, thoughtfully. “My dad’s an optician.”
A frown grew across Dr. Midlane’s face. “How long have you been seeing me?”
“Two, two and a half years. Why do you ask?”
“You’re forty years old. You haven’t had a job in five years. You haven’t worked full-time ever. You’ve started your education on six separate occasions and dropped out of school each time,” said Dr. Midlane.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, you have too much choice. A hundred years ago people worked to survive.”
“But I want more than that. I want to be fulfilled,” complained Albert.
“You’re assuming your grandparents and great grandparents weren’t fulfilled.”
Albert paused for a second. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“There’s no perfect life. Just living and not living. Right now, you’re not living,” said Dr. Midlane.
“So I should become an optician, like my dad?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
Albert’s brow furled. “Not a one.” He slapped his knees. “That settles it. I’m gonna do it.”
“There’s an inherent fulfillment in living,” said Dr. Midlane, encouragingly. “Go and be fulfilled.”
Dr. Midlane walked Albert out, then sat at his desk. Picking up the phone, he punched ten numbers and waited.
“Mr. Craig? This is Dr. Midlane. I have some news. It won’t be long until your son Albert moves out of your basement. Don’t cry Mr. Craig. It’s all in a days work.”