The university professions are often used to reinforce low self-esteem.
This is something that happened to me. At first I spent pretty bad but in the end I was lucky.
My father worked for many years as a waiter (waiter, waiter) in a downtown bar where men used to meet fans turf (horse racing).
I felt proud of Don Pedro, (my father), when he yielded to the insistence of such distinguished patrons and made me wear for my big sister "to meet me."
They treated him like one but with a strange sort of respect: someone who professes humanly economically superior to someone higher.
The worst was that I walked touring the tables all those people waving at me with perfume nostrils flared unusual smoke mixed with snuff.
With this background it was obvious that I would become a waiter myself.
By pure pride that Don Pedro did not want to get me where to work because I was sure to have inherited a job that allowed us to live comfortably for the four children born to the old.
The matter was not as easy as imagined because in this work the best income is received by voluntary payment from customers (tips).
My situation was more difficult than my father because at the restaurant where I got were two waiters working and three wenches, (waitresses).
Women are more charming and know how to encourage gentlemen to 'pay' for a smile, nail polish, high heels.
I talked to Don Pedro and laughed to shame. I said:
- I think not serve to waiter. Do not you have faith. Estudiás Why not a profession? A title used to feel important.
It was what finally did.
The good thing about this experience is that a colleague is still my wife.
Note: Original in Spanish (without translation by Google): Los doctorados curativos.
(Este es el Artículo Nº 1.939)