Working for a Living

In exactly 1 week and 3 days, my youngest children, The Twins, will be heading to Kindergarten. They will be leaving me and joining their older brothers on the long haul in the big yellow bus. I hear most Mothers cry when their babies head to Kindergarten. Maybe I did for a minute when my oldest first started school, but I doubt it since I still had 3 more kids at home. I know that I did not shed a tear when Bug Man went to Kindergarten last year. And this coming August, passers-by may see me in the driveway moving around erratically and stop to help me, thinking I may be having some sort of seizure, only to find that I'm just celebrating my new found 7 am to 4 pm freedom.

Since everyone I know realizes that my daytime hours will soon be childfree, mostly because it's all I talk about, they keep asking me what in the world will I do with myself? I always quickly reply that the first few weeks, I'm not going to do anything. I think I deserve a little break after 12 years of non-stop child rearing. Then I remind them just because there will be no kids in the house during the day doesn't mean that the laundry, dishes, bills, and dust will be joining the kids at school and I will be doing what I normally do, just sans kids. This leads to the mandatory blank stare, always followed by the obligatory, "You'll get bored".

Now, any woman who has ever listed her profession as "homemaker" would automatically fall down in a raging fit of laughter at this statement. But, those who haven't will still be staring at you, waiting for your fit to be over so you can tell them exactly what you plan to do with all of our new free time. After this happens to you about 50 times, you start to think that maybe you should actually get a "real" job.

I suppose all of that laughter and erratic movement must have cut off the oxygen supply to my brain and caused some sort of permanent damage, because after awhile I started to think that maybe I should get a job. I actually started to think that maybe it would be nice to become a productive member of society, have actual conversations with other productive adults, and do something that would require me to wear something other than pajamas all day long. So, I put together a résumé and started perusing the classifieds.

I reasoned that I had raised four children well enough so that the school would accept them as students, maintained a household, supported my husband's Army career, helped care for my dying Grandmother, and obtained a college degree, that I would be qualified for a great job. Apparently, I was very wrong.

The first job I applied for was a Pharmaceutical Sales Rep position. I figured that all the time I spent at the doctor's office, my extensive viewing of TV drug company ads, and my medical training via The Book, made me a perfect candidate for this position. I spent a whole hour filling out the online form to get the online equivalent of a rejection letter on a post-it note because I did not have 2 years of pharm sales experience. But hey, they did invite me to re-apply in six months, if I had gained those 2 years of experience by then.

Next, I applied for a reporter position with our local newspaper. Most of the four pages that comprise our local newspaper are usually full of typographical, grammatical, and factual errors, so I thought they would appreciate the help I could bring them. Plus, maybe I could actually write something entertaining once in awhile. I even sent them some of my funniest stories and suggested a humor column. Not only did I never hear back from them, shortly after I sent my résumé, they decided to start a new section dedicated to religious stuff, or more specifically Christian religious stuff, probably in hopes of saving my soul from the devil.

Forging ahead, my next several résumés went to the local radio station that needed somebody to read the news and weather in between country music songs. The job listing read: Must be computer literate. Reading and writing skills a must. Entry level fully considered. OK, I thought, I can work a computer and I can read and write. Matter of fact, I can write a lot better than the person they have writing their stuff now, since he or she is always using adjectives as nouns and misspelling even the simplest of words. I even went as far as actually listening to the station and their country music to become acquainted with the audience. After sending six revised versions of my perfect cover letter and résumé, with all of the required butt kissing, I didn't hear a damn thing. I seriously considered sending just one more résumé, but I am a little concerned that they might send the police to arrest me for harassment.

Since I wasn't qualified to sell drugs, write articles about women smuggling guns into the jail via the hoo-ha, or tell the city that it will be sunny with a high of 75, I decided that I would go to real estate school, because thanks to the Army, I am an expert at buying and selling homes. Gearing up for my new career, I composed my voice mail message to prospective clients, drove around assessing the real estate market, and pondered my new wardrobe. I was ready, baby! Then, two days before the classes were to start, I got a call that the class was cancelled and they'd let me know when it was rescheduled. I'm still waiting.

All of this rejection is really starting to take a toll on my self-perception of being an intelligent, well-educated, diversified woman. Dammit, I'm young, I'm smart, and people like me! I think I'll take a tip from Johnny Paycheck – all of them can take their jobs and shove it (right up their hoo-has) and I'm going back to my fuzzy jammies, really bad TV, and learning the finer techniques of boredom.