I became the teacher.
When I graduated from college, my one professor told me I wouldn’t make anything of my life.
He didn’t think I had any motivation.
I knew he didn’t like me, but I didn’t care. Twenty years later, I had been working for a cannabis dispensary for fifteen years, and for five of those years I owned the cannabis dispensary I was working in. One afternoon, he came strolling into the cannabis dispensary. He wasn’t as tall as I remembered and he looked much less robust than I remembered. His attitude was still the same, but he was definitely getting older. I didn’t think he remembered who I was. He was asking about the different types of marijuana I had in the store. We talked about the strains and the edibles. He told me that he had been a big user of marijuana products since he was in his teens. Now that it was legal, he wanted to check out one of the marijuana dispensaries. He stopped talking and stared at me for a couple minutes. He said I looked familiar, then he remembered. He told me I was one of his best, but least motivated students. He was hoping that by telling me I wouldn’t amount to much because of motivational problems, that I would change. He asked if I was the manager of this cannabis dispensary. I was never so proud to tell someone that I was the owner of this cannabis dispensary. He smiled and said that someone took what he said to heart, instead of just holding a grudge.