Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Terrible Tuesdays and Mr. Big

I'm beginning to notice a trend. If I have a day that is harried, frenetic, involves major mechanical failure of my car, clothes washer, or water supply to the house - it's a Tuesday. Is there some sort of cosmic plot to make that day horrendously difficult for some of us?

Yesterday happened to be one of those days for me. My car battery died not once, but twice. I had let the battery drain all night and when I finally got my car jumped (after frantic calls to friends to come take the kids to school so they wouldn't be late for their AIMS testing) I immediately turned the car off and went into the house. Seems I didn't know you should drive the car around a bit and let the engine run for a while so the battery won't die again. Which mine did, just before I had to get Jacob from kindergarten and get ready for a job interview.

I interviewed yesterday for a part-time (very part-time) job. I did this after a day where I had sweat my way through several t-shirts, made phone calls where I sounded like a prank caller because somewhere along the line I have lost most of my voice - I sound like Kathleen Turner after twelve packs of ciggies - and wrangled yet another friend to drive to my house out in the country and jump my car.

The interview went really well, but I have to make a decision. Do I want to work for a company where the Big Boss happens to be my husband? Where the executive who interviewed me for this job seemed almost nervous around me? It made me think back to times I had wanted to die laughing, throw up, or punch Bob in the back because of his position.

Like when I was in labor with Jack. I was stumbling through the hospital hallways trying to get my reluctant cervix to dilate when I heard some of the nurses at the nurses station look at Bob as he walked past them and they giggled. One of them said, "Do you know who that was?" I had gone into labor during the work hours, so Bob was still in Executive Wear. Meanwhile, when I had lumbered past them in excruciating agony from the eight pound baby getting ready to work his way out...nada. It made me want to feign some terrible pregnancy pain and fall onto them, my will causing my water to break all over their pink and green crocs. So much for will.

Or the time when an employee of his approached me and the kids at a function. She seemed a little breathless around Bob, and I was standing very, very still so that I wouldn't involuntarily snort, roll my eyes, or push her to the ground. Which was even more difficult when she looked at my daughter and asked, "What's it like?"

My daughter, younger at the time, looked at her blankly and said, "What's what like?"

"Living with your father," she replied.

Yeahhhhhh. Goood times. Which explains the question in my interview yesterday as to why I would want to work there. Why did I want to go to work? The implication was clear: Why would you leave your velvet chaise at home, your silver urn of chocolates, and the cushy life as "Stay at Home Wife to Mr. Big" for a job at the hospital?

I had prepared for that question. Bob had prepared me for that question. But still, the answer on my lips was not the answer I was supposed to give. I wanted to look this coiffed, professional woman in the eyes and screech, "Have you met my husband? Do you know how many kids I have? Do you know if I am gone for part of the weekends this man has promised to do laundry and keep the kids happy? Well, DO YOU?"

Instead, I smiled blandly and said, "I believe every woman should work, whether it be five or fifty hours a week."

So there.

25 comments:

Lori said...

Yikes! That must be tough. I don't think I'd be able to work there. Those people would drive me crazy. Unless he's a saint. Then it would be understandable Is he?

jakelliesmom said...

Wow, Jen. Good for you. They'd be fools not to hire you.

It was a fine day when I realized my status as Wife of the Boss (and though their organization has rules against spouses employed together, I'd work with him in a heartbeat just to make fun of him).

Jen M. said...

He's not a saint - but he's a good guy. And if I could make fun of him at work - even better! ;)

Mamma said...

When people ask me (and it happens all the time) how I work with three kids I always answer the same way: How do you think I stay sane??

It's so good to have an identity that's yours.

And all this time I've been a reader I had no idea that the hubs was a Mr. Big.

SuburbanCorrespondent said...

I guess you meant "...work for pay..."; because I do think we are all already working at least 50 hours a week.

Jen M. said...

Of course that's what I meant. It was what I needed to say instead of what I was really thinking.

Heather said...

Awww. Hope today is a better day!

liv said...

I am still ardently interviewing for the very enviable title of Lady of The Manor.

Biddy said...

you go girl! you have to take the job, if for no other reason than to be able to say "oh yeah, i'm sleeping with the boss"

:-)

also? you should probably invest in one of those portable car jumper thingies. no other car needed!

Rima said...

"Causing my water to break all over their pink and green crocs."

Hahahahaha. I have such a good visual of that .

Well, first of all, let me just say how cool I think it is that you might be getting this job. And I can sympathize, to an extent, about the comments.

This is in a different vein, but it used to irk me to no end when people assumed, for example, that we were living high on the hog when I was a SAHM scraping to make ends meet on the P-Dawg's resident salary (worked out to less than minimum wage, BTW), but I digress.

I read your NaBloPoMo posts about being an air force wife, and I have no doubt that you will handle this new position with grace and class.

Anonymous said...

you know, these stories where you are bragging, but pretending like you aren't bragging are getting kind of old.

Jan said...

Jen, take the job. Prove you got it on your own. Stop taking anonymous comments. If they say it they should own it.

Amanda said...

I hope next Tuesday goes better for you. And I agree with Jan 100%.

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

As someone who has literally worked 5-8 hours a week for 17 years, I totally agree with your answer.

Amy said...

Sorry, new here. I take it you are the wife of a prominent judge/lawyer/doctor?

Amy said...

Hospital administrator? Now you have me curious!

bermudabluez said...

I absolutely LOVE that last line....five or fifty! You got them, babe! I kind of did it backwards....I married the boss and quit my job. That was ten years ago this year. And I really don't miss it. Not one bit. But with little ones....I think it's good to get out / get away!!

bermudabluez said...

Oh! And I agree with Jan all the way!!

Sass E-mum said...

It shocks me that they could even ask you the question. But that's because UK equal opportunities law is more comprehensive than in the US.

Did they really think you'd go to interviews just for fun?

Given the circumstances it's a great answer. It's just lousy you had to give it.

Jen M. said...

Hi, anonymous!

I love to brag when I get the chance! There is no pretense about it! I have a lot in my life that causes me to want to put a fork in my eye, many years behind me of struggle, and now? When I get to brag? Baby, stand back.

Jen M. said...

Oh, and Jan - I allow anonymous comments, because ever since I got the advanced version of Site Meter, I can pretty much figure out who the "anonymous" commenter is. *Especially* if she has a blog, has left a comment non-anonymously before, or has sent me an email. Just have to match up the IPS addresses, locations and time. So you're pretty much rarely anonymous, at least in the blogging community.

BUT, never fear "anonymous" - I won't out you. Your blog readers seem to like you a lot, and I'm a lot of things, but I'm not mean. Your secret is safe with me. Just try and keep the green eyed monster in check, k?

Jen M. said...

I can't spell today. I meant "ISP" addresses. Sheesh. Misspellings all over the blog today.

Mary Beth said...

You would think with all your wealth and staff and such, you'd have someone to push the car for you when the battery dies? Have you noticed that these kind of problems also happen when the kids have testing and cannot possibly be late for school? My crises never happen when I don't have to be somewhere or have a down day.

Jen M. said...

Mary Beth - you're right! Why I didn't have James, The Butler, push me is beyond me!

Rony said...

LMAO. Who asks those kind of questions these days? Oh, that's right, the same person who asked me while doing a phone interview. I hung up on them! Too funny.