Monday, April 5, 2010

Gimme dollar

posted Thu, 14 Sep 2006

It’s Thursday and I’m still unemployed. I do have a temp job for tomorrow. Just a one-day thing – a company launch of the United Way campaign, I think. I have to wear khaki pants, which shows you how far I have fallen. I am willing to wear the pants that make a woman’s butt look a mile wide just to make some money. Does that make me a whore? Am I that desperate, that cheap?

Yes.

Yes, I am. For $10 an hour (before taxes, so it’s going to be about $7 after, because I got a nice severance package in January that already put me in a hefty tax bracket) I am willing to prostitute myself by wearing the pants I love to hate.

Call me any name you wish, but give me the cash.

I am going to get a shirt out of it. Monica at the temp agency said it didn’t matter what shirt I wore because I would get an “event shirt” when I got there. Not that that matters. I never wear those shirts again. They’re usually ugly and where would you wear something like that anyhow but to the gym or to work in the yard? I already have gym and yard clothes. It will probably be too long, too, which means all the extra fabric will bunch up around my butt, adding to the mile-wide ass illusion.

$70 is two weeks’ worth of groceries. I will grit my teeth and remind myself of that every time some guy averts his eyes from my fat butt.

Maybe I should start babysitting again. For money, I mean. For people I don’t know. I would never charge my friends. But there is money to be made in it. One boot camp friend pays $10 an hour. Sure, she has four kids, but all you do is set the clocks ahead and put them all to bed as soon as you get there. That’s an old babysitter trick.

Babysitting would be a lot easier now. I would be better prepared to handle some of the things that made me want to sink into a hole in the ground when I was a teenager. If I went to a family to babysit for the very first time and all three boys ran naked into the living room and started telling me about their penises, I probably wouldn’t be flustered. I would just say, “That’s great. Go put on your PJs.” That way, I probably wouldn’t even have to figure out how to respond when their very handsome father walked into the room and the four-year-old boy said, “But our daddy has the biggest penis of all!”

Nope. That wouldn’t even happen to me now because I would have taken the appropriate preventive action. Even if it did, the dad and I would just roll our eyes and say, “Kids!” Then we would change the subject quickly and he would probably offer me a beer. I would accept even though I don’t even like beer just so there would be a reason for him to leave the room and so he wouldn’t see my face turning absolutely beet red. Yeah, it would be a lot easier now. And the money would be tax free.

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