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Thursday, October 21, 2004

On a real job

Someone's privileged wife says something about not knowing if someone else's privileged wife ever had a real job and the crowd goes wild. This is what I was hearing when I went to bed last night; when I woke up this morning; and when I got off work tonight. Unreal and who cares.

Although, one has to wonder if either knows what a real job is. Try this job for a day. A single mother raising for her two children on her own meager salary and nothing else, working for a boss who's proud of himself because he thinks he's doing her and the world a grand favor by paying her more than the poverty rate. Then, one bleak winter morning, she calls into work sick because one of her kids is too sick to go to daycare. But her boss, wanting to make sure he gets his money's worth out of her, tells her that if she wants to be paid for the day off, she has to bring a note from a doctor verifying her child is really sick. To which she informs her boss that she doesn't need to take her child to the doctor to know she's sick, and furthermore she doesn't have the money to pay for a doctor visit, anyway. To which her boss tells her that's what insurance is for. She then informs him that he doesn't provide insurance and he doesn't pay her enough to get insurance for her kids or herself, for that matter. About an hour later there's a knock on the door. She figures it to be her boss checking to see if her child is really sick. It's not her boss. It's a messenger service delivering a box of files, a typewriter, and a note that says "get this work done."

Posted by Marie at October 21, 2004 9:42 PM