When I was a kid, I had some sort of hero complex. I changed career goals weekly, as most kids do, but each of my jobs came with some strange caveat.

Normal kids want to be a veterinarian. But I wanted to be a veterinarian who worked in a zoo so I could help the animals escape.

Normal kids want to be a doctor. But I planned to be a pediatrician who fixed kids up and sent each one out the door with a puppy.

As I aged, the dreams became a bit less radical, but my focus remained on saving someone’s day.

For a while I wanted to be a dentist. But I planned to be a traveling dentist who would give free oral exams to people who had bad teeth and no money to get them fixed.

When I wanted to be a lawyer, I planned to defend only the wrongly accused. I would only get paid if I won their case.

Embracing my vanity early on, I even hoped for a while to become a plastic surgeon who beautified the deformed and helped unattractive people feel better about themselves. And, of course, I’d do pro bono work for the very unfortunate- looking.

The goal was always to improve someone’s quality of life, to save the world and to be a hero in my own right.

I fully believed that I would make a change, one sick elephant or painful nose job at a time.

Now, I simply try to give people a fun read each week (not an entirely unnoble effort, in my opinion).

At some point, probably when I got my first paycheck, I realized why there weren’t more people trying to change the world – most people were struggling to change their own. The task clearly wasn’t an easy one.

That’s when my goals shifted. I started hoping that I would miraculously be discovered and whisked away to have my own TV show. I would have settled for a part in a suppository commercial if it meant never having to wear a Long John Silver’s uniform again.

Since then, I’ve worked in the fabulous world of retail, dealt with the monotony of scanning groceries and the stress of waiting tables.

To my dismay, I’m not aware of ever saving anyone’s day, unless you count bringing them more rolls or remembering to scan a few coupons.

My childhood self would be very disappointed that I have yet to send someone away with a puppy.

But my grown-up self is satisfied with sending someone away with a smile. Sometimes, that’s all people need.

Joey Leslie is a senior news/editorial journalism major from Pikeville and a features reporter for the Herald. He can be reached at features@wkuherald.com.