2006 Story Set
| Date: May 15, 2006 You get to the big meeting and open your briefcase to find a neatly folded spare diaper on top of the files. You don't even blink. When the men in the meeting get so over-heated and childish (and men do get childish at the office), you whip out the diaper and a spare baby bottle and set them on the table. You need not speak. You just roared. A pacifier works well too. After complaining that your classroom pointers are always missing, your son picks out a real (and slightly dangerous if fired) arrow for you to use as a pointer when lecturing. No one steals it. It carries its own warning. The only phone calls you get at work are from your sons who forgot something they needed for school, a field trip, Boy Scout Camp. (Pick one) You have learned to get the kids off to school BEFORE you attempt to get ready for work. This way you might actually get to enjoy your morning shower. If your office has its lights out and you are there working at the computer, chances are that there is a sick child sleeping under your desk, conference table or in the corner. (Depends on the size of the child.) The first thing you check on at a new job is where the hot chocolate is kept (for when the kids visit), how far away the nearest MacDonald's is (for when the kids visit) and how secure the main computer room is (for when the kids visit). You never ask if bringing your sick child to work is OK ("It is easier to ask forgiveness than ask permission"), unless you are in a secure defense facility. In that case, you just stay home. (In that case, the defense company ran a line to my house (I lived close) and put a terminal on my dining room table.) You think that bring your daughter to work day is discriminatory. (I had sons. They came in anyway. They called people by name. They decorated my assistant's cubicle with toilet paper for her birthday.) You think that $100,000 workstations make good babysitters. If you have to work on Saturday, you know where the wide hallways are that can handle a three-wheeler tricycle and where the rolling TV/DVD/VHS is kept. (Salesmen finding you on the floor playing horsey on a week-end are told to shut up. You have no time for them. Unless they are volunteering to baby-sit while you get the rest of your work done.) You think that $10,000 PCs make great babysitters. (You know that Macs are.) (Apple computers are called Macs if you are among the non-literate.) QVC and HSN are your fav department stores. You own more than a week's worth of underwear just in case the Cub Scout/Boy Scout camp-out interferes with your laundry. You own two cars just in case. If one doesn't start, you all get out and get in the other one. AAA works better when you are not in a hurry. You get to work and find two hard-boiled eggs (no container, no salt, no pepper, no anything) in the bottom of your purse with a battered banana. You only wear washable clothes to work. This includes any suits you may own because you still have delusions of being thought of as professional. You arrive at work with make up on ONE eye. (Or no lipstick. Or a shiny nose. Or your blush streaked on ONE cheek. Or your hair still in " hair-curlers just removed" mode. You may even still be IN hair-curlers. Sometimes you have all but one curler removed. (Make-Up Interruptus.) Why you keep a make-up bag, brush and hair spray in your desk. You arrive at work with SOMETHING on your white blouse left from the baby and spend the first 20-30 minutes in the Ladies room washing said blouse and holding it in front of the blow dryer. If your rest room hasn't got a blow dryer - you keep a hairdryer in your desk. You get to work and realize the elastic in your underwear is NOT going to make it through the day. (Pick one: Panties, slip, bra strap) You have safety pins and needle and thread in your desk for this. You also go out at lunchtime and buy new whatever it is that's failing if possible. It's an excuse. A pretty new slip is precious. So is shopping without children in tow. You wear jackets and scarves to cover the damp spots from emergency wash-ups. You keep knitted shawls that cover a wealth of sins at the office and wrap up in them often. You get to work and your wallet is at home. (Your purse. Your briefcase. FIll in the blank.) I tend to turn around and go back home, start the day over. You get to work and your diamond ring is not on your hand. (Same response. A little OCD, I will get nothing done all day if I am fretting.) You get to work and your hem is hanging. This is why you have a stapler. You keep spare nylons in your desk because play-school is tough on your pantyhose. You also keep that strong as iron nail polish that can stop a run in its tracks. And glue the offending garment to your leg for the rest of the day. (This only works for runs that don't show. Like thigh-level.) Eventually you give up and wear pantsuits. It doesn't help. You get to work with one brown shoe and one black. (Same style.) This requires not moving about the office, keeping your feet firmly on the floor under your desk, until lunchtime, when you go out and buy a new pair of shoes. You keep a pillow and a blanket in your car because lunch-time naps are precious. Lunch time is not a lovely refreshing walk, or a chance to mingle with co-workers. It's a mad dash to the drug store, the grocery store or the discount store to get whatever it is you have to have but can't face shopping with wild children in tow after working all day with wild men in tow. You see a woman with a fancy dog leash and wonder if it would work on children. You also think of a few salesmen (engineers, fill in the blank) you'd like to chain up. Like to a stake. Near an ant-hill. You have no time to date so you keep an enlarged photo of yourself and Fabio on your desk and send yourself flowers. Annoys the salesmen. (And other office predators.) Sweet revenge. You wouldn't trade the chaos in your life for all the tea in China. |
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