Vocational guidance. A job for the truly dedicated teacher, someone eager to assist young minds in their search for a career which will utilize their talents in a meaningful and profitable way. The true vocational guidance counsellor has a raft of tools to help him in his chosen profession. Questionnaires that will give an indication of where the student's interests and natural abilities lie. Psychological profiles. Written reports from the teachers giving you the nitty gritty of how the student actually performs.
Once you have amassed all this information and interviewed the student and, in some cases, the student's parents, you are able to use your training to give a learned opinion as to what the student should be looking for once they leave the school.
"Johnny should go to university and study to be a veterinary surgeon. His past history of practicing vivisection on kittens shows that he has a proclivity for this."
"Jane has a wonderful career ahead of her in nursing. She is keenly interested in this subject having been found playing doctor and nurse with a number of different students."
"Alex will make a fine butcher. I feel that a career as a surgeon is not really commensurate with his talents, even though he removed Joe's appendix. I believe we explained at the time that Joe didn't want his appendix removed."
This year I was the vocational guidance counsellor at Lawndale. There were unusual circumstances that led to me being appointed. Basically, the previous counsellor handed in her resignation and the principal went looking for a volunteer to take over her duties, the school being reluctant to hire a new specialist right at the end of the school year.
Unfortunately, I was ill on that day, the only teacher unfortunate enough to be absent. The rest of the teaching staff were unanimous in their recommendation. While they were too busy to do this prestigious duty themselves they were sure that I would love to do it. Not being present to render my own objection I found on returning to school the next day that I'd been appointed as the new vocational guidance counsellor.
I was fortunate in that Lawndale is a relatively small school. Also, most of the students in the current graduating class had a pretty good idea of where they were going next year and only needed me to rubber stamp my approval. I did suggest to Grant that if he wanted to be a politician he should really study law as well as politics. A good politician should always know what laws he's breaking so he has his defence ready.
There were half a dozen problem students. A person who faints at the sight of blood would do well to steer clear of the medical profession. Explaining to someone with the muscles and brain of an ox that maybe university was not the place for them takes considerable diplomatic skills. All in all I got the students squared away and happy that they had some idea of where they were going when they left school.
Except for Marianne. Marianne was a conundrum. She was a vivacious young thing. Popular and pretty. She was a cheerleader and did well in all her subjects without really showing any outstanding talent for one subject. She had a good, well-rounded education, and would probably do reasonably well in any number of careers if she bothered to apply herself.
There was the rub. She didn't seem to want to apply herself. She wasn't interested in going to university. She wasn't interested in getting any sort of menial job. She wasn't interested in office work. She didn't seem to be interested in anything that meant you actually had to work. I delicately suggested that maybe she intended to marry after leaving school. She was eighteen and of a marriageable age. She gave a delicate shudder. Marriage to any of the boys she knew would result in children and that was certainly not on her agenda.
"Surely there must be some activity you enjoy doing," I finally said in some exasperation and was surprised to find she was suddenly blushing and not looking at me. I noted her behaviour as something to consider and suggested that she think about it and we'd meet again later in the week.
You would think that a teacher arranging an appointment to see a student would be an easy thing to do. Normally so, but not where the appointment is considered optional, such as vocational guidance. Any time I suggested was turned down as Marianne had another appointment for just that time. I finally suggested that she pick a date and time and I'd meet her then. She very smugly suggested after cheerleader practice on Thursday night, knowing that I'd have to sit around after school for an hour or so waiting for her. She looked quite annoyed when I agreed.
I spent a profitable hour grading assignments on Thursday afternoon, wondering if Marianne would actually show up for her appointment. Surprisingly enough, she did, not even bothering to change after the practice. I suspect this was to indicate to me that it would be a short interview as she had to go and change.
"Have you given any thought to what you like doing?" I asked.
She didn't blush this time. She just gave me a totally innocent smile.
"Yes, well all I could come up with was that I like to go out on dates and I like to fuck," she said.
I guess thinking of the latter was the reason she'd blushed in our prior meeting. Now she was going to see if she could embarrass me and kill off the interview. I smiled back just as innocently.
"Well, if that's what you prefer doing perhaps you'd like to be a professional escort. We have a reputable escort agency in town. I can give you a reference so you can go and talk to the woman who runs it."
"What? Become a call girl? Are you insane? You can't recommend that sort of career."
"I didn't say anything about being a call girl," I said firmly. "If you accuse the escort agency of running call girls they would sue you. They run a respectable business. Do you know what a professional escort agency does?"
She shook her head, still looking dubious about the whole idea.
"They provide escorts to business people who need a date for an evening. They provide both male and female escorts. Someone may be in town and needing a partner for a business dinner so they call the agency. Alternatively, someone local may have an appointment but their husband or wife can't attend and they feel they need an escort. The client pays the agency who subsequently pays the escort. What the client pays for is the company of the escort at dinner and a show or meeting. Where female escorts are concerned they generally want someone pretty, intelligent enough to be able to hold a decent conversation, and willing to move into the background while business is discussed.
What the escort agency do not do is provide an escort who is committed to having sex with the client. If they tried the business would be closed down very smartly."
I let Marianne consider this. She now looked interested but still a trifle dubious.
"Where your liking to fuck is concerned," I continued, "you are at liberty to come to your own personal arrangements with the client. My understanding is that some of the girls will agree to sex as it can result in quite a hefty tip. Others won't have a bar of it. It's purely a matter of personal choice."
"If you join the agency then they will put you through a series of courses on deportment and social customs. They will also recommend books to read and films to see so you can discuss them with a client."
I could almost see the light turn on in her head. Being a professional escort in a respectable business was a proper job and she certainly would not be considered a call-girl. If she fucked a client then that was her business. She wasn't doing it for money. She might get a generous tip, but that was because of her professional duties, not for any private ones.
"If you like I can pass on a recommendation to the woman who runs the agency. They don't interview walk-ins, requiring that someone respectable vouches for the potential escort. If they like the recommendation I give then they'll contact you for an interview. There's no pressure on you. If you decide the job isn't for you then you don't even need to attend the interview. A number of people back out without ever attending the interview.
