I pride myself in being a professional. I have been working in my chosen field for 38+ years and I absolutely love what I do. Within my industry, I am respected.
Somewhere along the line - back about 20 years ago - I found that another persona began developing, one that had absolutely nothing to do with my chosen career but everything to do with being at the rink. Once in and around those hallowed halls, I ceased to be Allison Scott the PR pro; I became, "Jeremy's mom."
"Hey, Jeremy's mom! Could you help with Sally's skates?"
"Jeremy's mom can take you to school."
"Give it to Jeremy's mom. She'll take care of it."
Even going to competitions today, I find myself introducing this other persona as, "Hi I'm Allison - Jeremy's mom," as if my name were hyphenated.
"Why, yes, I am."
A flurry of cameras and photos ensued, along with a flurry of accolades in sentences that seemingly had no punctuation, and virtually no end.
Of course, I was flattered to be recognized and I encouraged the young skater to stay in the sport and work hard. But as I walked away, I had to muse: What would happen if someone walked up to our skater and said, "Aren't you Allison's son?"