|Where'd You Go, Bernadette. I hate it when the library covers up the title with their stupid stickers.|
Anyway, I want to be sitting and reading this book but I feel an overwhelming urge to share with you the experience I am having with my oldest child. She's a peach. A real joy these days.
Was that sarcasm?
In truth, she is a really great kid. She's lovely and kind, sweet and polite, smart and beautiful and all good things. But mostly when I interact with her she is not always the sunshine and rainbows she appears to be.
She's looking for a job. And has been for quite sometime. She's a tad picky and maybe a little snobby, if I may be so bold, about where she wants to work. I believe all good people are allowed that sense of entitlement in their lives on occasion.
Bad people too. Not that I believe in bad people.
Yes I do.
I have seen, over the last six weeks, her open her eyes to a degree about how picky she's allowed to be in finding a job. She's tried all her dream jobs. No bites. So now she is extending out to her less than ideal job locations. She even applied at EggsOasis, for crying out loud.
Stupidest name for a restaurant on the planet. I mean, I love eggs, but c'mon.
I am prodding her gently to try places she wouldn't normally try; however, she is about a 1 on the patience scale with me.
1 being the least amount of patience one person can have for another human being. Like so impatient that if she had a gun and two bullets she'd shoot me twice. And then she'd go to jail for murder but it wouldn't matter because she doesn't have a job.
Today I offered to drive her around, again, to hand out resumes. I would drive to a place and say, "What about here?" To which she'd respond with something as helpful as, "I'll try them later."
Ahhhhhh, now I see where the problem in finding a job lies. She suffers from later syndrome. I'll do it later. I'll check online later. I'LL ATTEMPT TO FIND A JOB LATER!
I see how this works. And I also see how it doesn't work.
So, we're at the mall. We are walking around. She has a folder full of resumes. I say things like, "Have you applied here?"
"No." That's all I get. A no. Just no.
"Why not?" I ask as sweetly as is physically possible.
Huff, grunt, eye roll. "Mooooomm. Geeeeeez."
After a half dozen of these responses I pull off my nice girl pants and put on my naggy mom hat. So now I am standing pantless, in the mall, wearing a stupid hat on my head. A look I don't care for, you should know, even if it is metaphorical. "Look kid, do you want a job or not? We are standing here right outside this store in the same mall you have come to 5 times looking for a job and you are telling me you haven't applied here yet? I am asking why. Eye rolling is not an appropriate response to this question."
"FINE!" And off she goes into the store. And the eye rolling becomes all mine.
Here's another fun conversation we had today:
Me, after she returns to the truck from going into a restaurant, "Well? Are they hiring?" A simple and appropriate question, in my opinion.
Her: "I don't know."
Me: "What do you mean, you don't know? Is it open?"
Me: "Did you talk to someone."
Oh my gosh, kid! Throw me a bone!! You're killing me.
Me: "What did they say?"
Her: "The manager wasn't there."
Me, exasperated: "You know Cicely, you should still leave a resume when that happens."
Her, also exasperated. Unjustly so, I might add: "I DID MOOOOMMM!!! GEEEEEEEEZZZZZZ. I KNOW WHAT I AM DOING. I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS A LONG TIME. OH MY GOSSHH!"
Me: "Well, c'mon Cicely. Tell me these things so I don't think you're walking away without even trying."
Which isn't what I wanted to say at all. What I really wanted to say was: you know what you're doing, oh wise one? Really?? Because.....oh never mind, the rest is just mean and she's probably going to read this and then never speak to me again. Ohhhh, how I will miss the snarky one word answers. Eye rolling is non-verbal though so I am sure I'll still get plenty of those and her sweet, unabrasive nature won't be lost unto me forever.
So, now we are home, jobless, hot and spent. Taking our distance from one another in an attempt to recover from this torturous, yet ongoing event we lovingly refer to as the job hunt.