Page 27 of Because of Dylan

“And then what?”

“And then more training, more hours, more tests until I get my clinical license.”

He bumps me with his shoulder. “So, what do you wanna be when you grow up?”

I grin at him. “I want to be a Licensed Independent Clinical Social Worker. Basically, I can work independently.”

“That’s cool. Being your own boss, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“How did you even get into that?”

His question makes my steps falter. “I don’t know. Something I’ve always wanted to do.” A partial truth.

“And the university helps you find the internship?”

“Yes and no. We get referred to different places. But I work under the Queen.”

“The Queen?”

I laugh. “That’s not her real name. That’s what everyone calls her because you better be good at your job or else heads will roll. Her name is Magda Kenny.”

“Holy crap! Can’t you find a different internship?”

“I wouldn’t want to. She’s a powerhouse of a woman. I love working for her. She’s been in the field for over thirty years. Nothing can replace that kind of knowledge or experience.”

I’m so close to graduating. And Magda Kenny played a big part in getting me to this point. I worked my ass off. All the sleepless nights studying, the odd jobs I took in addition to my bartending gig, brought me a step closer to what I want. I’m lucky to have her in my corner.

We’re at the Maslow building now. Tommy walks in with me. “Was it hard to get the job?”

“After she accepted me into her program, I found out she rejected nine other applicants before me. She’s picky. I got lucky, I guess.”

That day is imprinted on my mind. After the interview, at the very end, I was sure I’d be rejected.

“Miss Jones, you answered every question perfectly. You have a 4.0 GPA. And recommendation letters that praise you as an exemplary student. I should be thrilled with you. But I’m not.”

“No?” I couldn’t help myself. I was mortified as the word jumped out of my mouth.

“No. I’m not happy at all with this interview. You want to know why?”

“Yes.”

Then she looked at me with eyes that could see into my soul.

“For an hour we talked, and I still don’t know why you want to be a social worker.”

“To help people …” She cut me off before I could say anything else.

“Bullshit!” I was so startled by the cuss, all I could do was sit there, and open and close my mouth like a fish.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t go through all of this, spent thousands of hours studying and busting your ass for these grades, so you can help people.”

Her response incensed me. The hell I didn’t. That’s exactly why I was doing this. Anger got the best of me. Now that I was sure I didn’t get the position, I had nothing to lose. My mouth was filled to the brim with words that needed spilling. But again, she stopped me with a raised eyebrow.

“I'll ask you again. Why do you want to be a social worker, and don’t give me that 'you want to help people' bullshit answer again. Think, then speak.”

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