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Date: Thu, 30 Mar 2000 06:32:21 -0800
Message-Id: <[log in to unmask]>
Subject: -Vocational verbitude
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A few months ago, when I was picking up the children at school,
another  mother I knew well, rushed up to me.  Emily was fuming with
indignation.

"Do you know what you and I are?" she demanded.

Before I could answer - and I didn't really have one handy - she
blurted out the reason for her question.  It seemed she had just
returned from renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's
office.  Asked by the woman recorder to state her "occupation," Emily
had hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "Do you have a job, or are
you just a ......?"

"Of course I have a job," snapped Emily.  "I'm a mother."

"We don't list 'mother' as an occupation...'housewife' covers it,"
said the recorder emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same
situation, this time at our own Town Hall.  The Clerk was obviously a
career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high-sounding
title, like "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."

"And what is your occupation?" she probed.

What made me say it, I do not know.  The words simply popped out.
"I'm....a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and
Human Relations."

The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair, and looked up as
though she had not heard right.  I repeated the title slowly,
emphasizing the most significant words.  Then I stared with wonder as
my pompous pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the
official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in
your field?"

Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself
reply, "I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't)
in the laboratory and in the field (normally I would have said indoors
and out).  I'm working for my Masters (the whole darned family) and
already have four credits (all daughters).

Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities (any
mother care to disagree?) and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more
like it).  But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill
careers and the rewards are in satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I
was greeted by my lab assistants---age 13, 7, and 3.  And upstairs, I
could hear our new experimental model (six months) in the
child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.

I felt triumphant.  I had scored a beat on bureaucracy.  And I had
gone down on the official records as someone more distinguished and
indispensable to mankind than "just another......"

Home...what a glorious career.  Especially when there's a title on the
door.

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