(36) Experience Preferred

It is just another typical Saturday morning as I enter the kitchen slowly, eyeing with astonishment each table setting, the light blue table cloth, and the remains of bacon, eggs, and toast crumbs on my father’s nearly empty plate. My mother is busily frying more eggs while my father is examining, of all things, the classified section of the newspaper. Knowing how much my mother detests cooking in the morning, as well as the known fact that my father only reads the newspaper on his way to fifty-seventh and Park and never reads the classifieds, I am beginning to grow a tiny bit suspicious. The sight of the hash browns steaming encompasses my thoughts though, and I dismiss the random scene from the Brady Bunch as just another petty strategy for my parents to “communicate” and “care-n-share” with their teenagers as instructed by one of their many “How to Raise A Difficult Child” books.

“Daria! How nice of you to join us! I knew the smell of food would bring you down here.” My mother laughs innocently as she flips a piece of bacon so that it sizzles and crackles. I sit down cautiously, afraid to touch the fork in front of me. My father doesn’t look up from his paper as he picks up his mug of coffee. For several minutes we remain in silence until he suddenly folds the paper, tosses it onto the table, and looks up at me, ready for light conversation.

I smile weakly as I place my napkin on my lap and my father immediately starts asking me various questions. “Daria, how did you sleep?”

“Fine.” I mumble.

“How’s school?”

“Peachy.” I sigh with frustration. I have just woken up and I don’t understand how my father can just start rapid-firing inane questions. I can tell my dad senses my lack of enthusiasm as he takes a sip from his mug thoughtfully and then carefully brings it back down to the surface of the table. My mother piles food on my plate and I start to make a dent in it ravenously.

“Look, Daria, I’m not going to beat around the bush about this.”

I glance up at him with surprise. “Okay…” I reply slowly with my fork mid air.

“Well, let me just ask you this; do you ever feel like something is missing from your life? Don’t you ever tire of sleeping in until three o’clock and sun bathing all day?” He’s losing me but he doesn’t let me cut in. “Daria, I’ve thought a lot about it and I think at this time in your life it would be extremely beneficial if you, well say you got a job.” He places his crumpled napkin on his plate with satisfaction

I nearly shoot out my mouthful of eggs and buttered toast. I can’t believe what I have just heard! Me getting a job! How long has this idea been floating around in my father’s merciless mind?

“I second the motion.” My mother replies without hesitation. I wager that there has been no lack in preparation for this conspiracy. “You might be wondering why we would consider this for you, Daria.” My mother continues quickly. “Your father and I have always been blessed to be able to provide most everything for you, your needs have always been met, but what are you going to do when you go to college, Daria? And don’t think that you’re going to meet some mysterious, successful man who is going to inherit his father’s multi-million dollar company and is going to whisk you away to his mansion and pamper you with servants and cream puffs! Chances are when you hit the campus you’re going to start eating pizza for every meal, gain twenty-five pounds, and guys will begin to not even look at you.”

“Thanks Mom.” I reply.

“I’m just keeping you humble, dear.” My mother smiles cheerfully.

“The fact that I don’t have a boyfriend keeps me humble enough for now Mom, but thanks.” I glare at her over my plate.

“Now, Daria, your mother is right. It’s time you face reality and take life into your own hands. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, Daria. That’s why we’ve discussed it and have come to the conclusion that you need to learn responsibility, discipline, financial skills, and the virtue of good old hard work before you leave the nest. So, considering how much time you have on your hands, I’m willing to bet that you can find yourself a decent job, in say about two weeks.”

“And what if I don’t? What if I wait until the end of the summer to get a stupid job?” Resentment enters into my voice as I feel completely trapped and helpless.

“Well it would be an awful shame if you couldn’t drive until June, Daria. Gas just doesn’t come cheap anymore.” My mother smiles at my father. I look up at my parents with complete and utter hatred. So, they’re just going to announce that they’re no longer going to financially support their children. How like them! Now I know that I have no choice, I have come to the realization that they have left me no other way. Unless I win the lottery in the next few weeks to pay for my entire future, I have been defeated. I stand up abruptly, smash my fork down onto my plate, and stomp upstairs with nothing left to do but sulk.

It’s only about an hour until all of my friends are sitting in my room consoling me, with the exception of Britney who went to get her nails done. With newspapers opened on each of their laps, they search the job listings with me with stoic determination. “Here’s one,” I suddenly hear Charissa cry with forced cheerfulness, “Canine Coiffure” needs a bath and blow-dry assistant, seven-fifty an hour.” My look of total consternation is all she needs as an answer, as if I am going to spend my free time scrubbing down coddled cockapoos. I begin to moan underneath the shelter of my pillow as images float through my mind that make me recoil in horror. I’m standing in Hal’s Hotdog Heaven sporting a weenie beanie as my life passes before my eyes. Love-of-my-life-Jeff Waters has just walked in with three of his friends; Welcome to heaven, Jeff, welcome to your very own private HELL, Daria.

“Hey here’s one!” I snap out of the nightmare at the sound of Charlotte’s outburst. “Listen to this, this is like your dream job!” I grab at the newspaper desperately, anything to escape Hal’s Hotdogs. “Look who’s looking for a sales associate! Oh wait it’s in New Canaan, but well at least you can still retain some element of pride while you say, “let me help you on with that…hey that really looks good on you, and why YES we have a great sweater that matches that.”

My friends start giggling uncontrollably at Charlotte’s imitations but I don’t even care as I begin to dial the number hastily. I quiet them down with a twinge of annoyance as my heart hammers and I realize that for once in all of my sixteen years of living, I am doing something important for my life with out holding my parents’ hands or dipping into their checkbook. As a hoarse voice answers the phone I nearly jump out of my skin. “Yes, hello,” I squeak, “ I am calling in regard to your advertisement for a sales associate. Tuesday afternoon? Well yes, I can come in for an interview, oh yes of course I’ll hold.” I glance at my friends who are gaping at me and flash them a happy smile. I can hear sounds of the snipping of my mother’s apron strings already.