PROMPTuesday #39 & #40 – Two, Two! Two for the Price of One

DaGoddess @ 04:25

Last week, Deb wanted us to conduct interview, real or imagined. This week we have to tell about our first job. I’m not sure if I should talk about babysitting and then being a nanny or if I should talk about working at Baskin-Robbins. Babysitting was very profitable for me, so I did consider it a job. But working as a nanny for twins, THAT was hard work and it paid good money. Do either of those really count, though? I didn’t have to pay taxes on either of them, so maybe I should talk about Baskin-Robbins. Hmm. Decisions, decisions. While I decide, let’s review the rules, then we’ll go to the interview, and THEN you’ll find out which job I discuss.

Da Rules:

  • Try to write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kick in. Just set a timer, make your kid count to 600 slowly, whatever. It’s an honor system. And I trust you.
  • Aim for 250 words or less.
  • Please have fun. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Together, let’s rediscover the simple joy in the writing process.
  • Post your submission in the comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments.

Okey-dokey, here’s the interview. God and I were having a little chat. I was granted the interview based on my request for answers to three questions.

Me: God, why are some people such jerks? I know that seems like a softball, but I’m really quite curious.

God: I could give you the tried and true answer that I’m testing you and that I know you’ll find the Grace with which to deal with the assholes, but honestly, sometimes I get distracted by that Heavenly choir and I lose track of where I am with the personality wiring. Whenever that happens, I call it an *artistic expression*, not a mistake or imperfection. You’re a photographer, you know what I’m talkin’ about.

Me: I certainly do.

God: Two more to go.

Me: That’s right. Two more. Okay, what’s up with hemorrhoids and yeast infections? Both seem like cruel and unusual punishment just for being women. I realize men get hemorrhoids, too, but women…and that whole pregnancy and pushing thing…

God: Wow, I didn’t see that one coming! Good job! First, I do try to make the hemorrhoids men get extra big and extra painful or itchy. I figure it’s the least I can do. As for the yeast infections, that’s something I didn’t plan on. That’s *nature*. And I do allow nature a lot of latitude. I do, however, apologize for the stretch marks you get with pregnancy. My bad.

Me: That’s cool. I actually don’t mind the stretch marks. Cellulite is another story altogether.

God: What else you got for Me? There’s one question left.

Me: I guess those were the two biggies. Wanna go for a drink?

God: Excellent third question! The answer is “yes” and I’m buying.


First job:

Baskin-Robbins. Back in when they still made us wear those wretched pink and brown short dresses with shorts. And those awful hats. Blech!

My first day of work, I showed up, rarin’ to go. The owners, Russ and Edie, were both there. Edie was a chain-smokin’ old biddy who brought her horny standard poodle into the store with her all the time. Russ was a dirty old man who tried to stick his hand down my uniform to “help me put my nametag on”. I grabbed it from him and said, “thank you, I think I can manage.” I was 15, almost 16 and I knew a perv when I saw one.

In my first week of work, I got called by another employee’s name about 37 times. Her name was Joanne. (I still hate that name.) The confusion wasn’t because of the name. People thought I was her. When I finally met her, I had to admit we did look a little alike. Both of us had long blonde hair and were tan and blah blah blah. Turned out her birthday was two days before mine, too. Weird, huh? Gets weirder.

After four months or so, I stopped giving a shit about the job. Between the dirty old guy and the dog and the crabby old bat, I’d had enough. I quit at the same time they fired me. I went to work at THE pizza place in town. It was where you worked if you were cool. And guess who followed me there? Joanne. We also worked with a Jane and a Janet. Best part about it was if something went wrong, you could always blame one of the other “J” gals and nobody could tell the difference, nor did they care. Not that things often went wrong.

Oh, and that wasn’t the last time I worked with Joanne, either. But that’s another story.


  1. Interview with the Almighty was way cool… but the nasty dog and even nastier guy trumped Him, sorry! I was laughing AND feeling sorry for you. Great one! :biggrin:

    Comment by Pam — 2009/01/27 @ 06:43

  2. Good couple of stories. Sorry about the dislike of the name Joanne, that happens to be my mother’s name. (No, she never worked at Baskin-Robbins).:biggrin:

    Maybe we should do a poll of most disliked names. I’ve got a list of a few myself.

    Comment by diamond dave — 2009/01/27 @ 08:27

  3. […] DaGoddess told a story about her first job, mentioning a problem coworker by name which seems to have forever spoiled any like of the name.  I cheekily replied that that happens to be the name of my mother, and no, she never worked there.  Then I got to thinking about names that we can’t stand, names that have been forever tarnished for us because of a bad experience with someone by that name, or several someones with that name.  Names which we will forever associate as belonging to assholes.  Names which we would never give our children, or threaten our children with bodily harm if they ever name their children with that name.  Names that cause us to prejudge others with the name, even when we should know better. […]

    Pingback by Names you hate « The Real Dave — 2009/01/27 @ 09:51

  4. God really does understand after all.
    Thank you for the inspiring interview. I’m in a much better position now to understand freaks. I mean assholes. I mean God’s sense of humor.

    And I think the little uniforms were cute. But not the hat. No, not the hat.
    I don’t like the name Joanne either. :zombie:

    Comment by mannequin — 2009/01/27 @ 19:16

  5. Love it. I love the line about being 15 and knowing a pervert when you see one. Great feel to it with the description of the 2 bosses.

    Comment by g — 2009/01/27 @ 19:32

  6. Nothing like a pervert in a ice cream shop to scar you for life!

    Comment by Blognut — 2009/01/27 @ 21:27

  7. Yep, perverts can scar ya for life.

    Dave, I’m heading over to add a name or six to the list.

    Comment by DaGoddess — 2009/01/28 @ 04:05

  8. Well, God better buy. Do you suppose He’s mad though that Donald Trump has more money then him?

    Also, were the pervert’s hands cold from the ice cream?

    I’m not making any sense and I like it that way!

    Comment by San Diego Momma — 2009/01/28 @ 16:00

  9. Maybe if I’d had such a boss, I wouldn’t have such an ice cream problem. :biggrin: Then again, I might dislike dogs.

    Comment by Gdub — 2009/01/28 @ 23:01

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.