| |
Please Take My Children to Work Day
|
|
Return to Linger
OFF MY NOODLE
Carb-free Humor for the Mom on the Go
Taming A Case of Cubicle Rage
by Judy Gruen
After nine years of stay-at-home motherhood, I took a temp job as an editor at a large company. Excited to feel like a "professional" again who worked in a real office, instead of at a desk in the corner of my dining room, I also quickly became territorial about my temporary gig.
One morning, I sauntered into work, only to be startled by the sight of a woman about 10 years my junior, fanning out a display of edgy, hipster magazines on the credenza. What was this upstart doing in my office?
Everything about her set my teeth on edge, from her Goth-like black nail polish and creepy brown lipstick to her tight leather miniskirt. When she introduced herself as the new editor, I saw that my days requiring fresh lipstick, dressing for success, and having an excuse to forget to pick up my kids from school were coming to a screeching halt. But what grated most was how she reminded me of the life I left behind when my first child was born and I turned in my company Amex card: the unencumbered career woman, rising in the ranks to ever greater professional advancement.
I never consciously regretted leaving this behind, but who among us is immune from the occasional outbreak of PMS - Professional Malcontent Syndrome? I comforted myself that her job might get cut or outsourced one day, but my job as a mother of four, chief cook-and-bottle washer, soother of boo-boos, and in-house psychologist and Karate-fight referee was utterly safe.
Only good breeding kept me from slugging the little tartlet when, in the midst of my going through these emotional healing stages, she said, "This job must really have been a feather in your cap!" I felt Sudden Onset Cubicle Rage at that moment, and wanted to shout, "Listen, you mini-skirted malignancy, I was charging executive lunches on the company when you were still playing house. I used to hire and fire entire editorial production staffs back when you were bumming cigarettes in high school. Meanwhile, I'm raising children, and teaching them about gerunds, too!" Okay, that the part about gerunds would have been a little overwrought, but as long as I'm confessing, I may as well come completely clean.)
While I held back from yelling at this saucy scullion, I indulged myself a withering glare at her condescension. Unfortunately, when I turned and huffed out of the office, I saw to my acute embarrassment that the hem of my skirt had come undone, paralleling my emotional state.
Later, I reassured myself that except for the title of Executive Editor of a Major, Incredibly Influential Magazine, I had the most important things I had ever wanted in life. And maybe her Goth persona was just camouflage for her secret desire to have what I had: a husband, children, a hamster who only occasionally escaped from his cage, enough Legos to construct a model of the Pentagon, and a collection of DVDs starring talking animals large enough to keep kids quiet for five years straight.
My "normal" life, including all its occupational hazards, resumed the following week. On Monday, one young "secretary" answered the phone and told a client that I was "making" and couldn't talk, then hung up. I never knew to whom I owed an apology. On Wednesday, a client came to the house whom my little boys stared at in wonder. His gender-neutral looks, including slim build, long hair and earrings, prompted one of them to ask, "Are you a boy or a girl?" On Friday, I shopped, cooked and baked for our Sabbath, while tending to the kids and only occasionally sharing a new lesson on gerunds.
I concluded that working at home beats an office job any day. I don't need to keep up with what's happening on "Lost," "Desperate Housewives," or "American Idol." My commute to and from work is only a few feet, with only occasional gridlock by the laundry room. I don't have to deal with office politics or gossip.
Best of all, at home I have no fear of young, churlish editorial trespassers wearing black nail polish, announcing that they have arrived to replace me.
And you know what? While I've written three books since this episode of cubby rage and hundreds of other articles and columns, my kids remain the most impressive thing I have on my resume.
Judy Gruen's latest book is "The Women's Daily Irony Supplement." Read more of her work on
JudyGruen.com, or through any online bookseller and write to her at
judy@judygruen.com.
*The opinions stated aren't necessarily those of MommaSaid or its principals. Seek professional advice before beginning any health program.
|
|
