Okay. A quick story.
My daughter, Eliza, announced, at age 8, that she was going to grow up to be a television “show runner." (I didn't know what a show runner was until I was 30, but she has had a different life experience than I did.)
Hitherto “show runner," Eliza's professional goal had been to open a restaurant called "The Unicorn Cafe." Just for context.
She is now a freshman in high school. (Whatever that means, during quarantine.) Last semester she had a required class - on life skills. When my mother took it, it was called "home ec." When I took it, it was all about how to balance a checkbook. These days, it's about how to manage social media and get into college.
Eliza had an assignment. She was supposed to write about her career goals. The assignment specifically asked students to outline two professional aspirations. Then present them to the class.
Eliza could only come up with the one.
Show runner.
We live in Portland, Oregon. So show runner is not at the front of everybody's minds. The teacher reminded Eliza of the assignment. Eliza is an A-student; she always does the assignment. So this was a conundrum for her. Because it seemed entirely unnecessary. Eliza explained that she didn't need to come up with a second option, because she knew what she wanted to do, for a fact.
Her teacher, patient as a Buddha, suggested that Eliza might come up with a Plan B, you know, just in case the whole television show runner thing didn't work out, ultimately.
Eliza gave it some thought.
A Plan B?
A fallback. If all else failed.
Basically her version of digging ditches?
I guess I could be a "television executive," she said.
