Today in Homeschooling: Why You Don’t Want to be an Administrative Assistant

For various reasons that I won’t bore you with, my sixteen year old daughter and I found ourselves in line at the grocery store at noontime. This little local store is a fairly hectic place at noontime. It was a very bad piece of scheduling calculus that landed us there, then. We got into a checkout line that didn’t look too heinous, and immediately got boxed in from all sides by other people in line. In front of us was a beautiful woman, of a type not often seen in our neighborhood. We’ll call her Art Lady. Art Lady was wearing a beautiful tailored dress accessorized with an arty scarf and super cute heels. Hair, mani and pedi, all perfect.

grocery cart

Grocery Cart via MorgueFile

In Art Lady’s cart:

  • two pre-made single serve salads
  • a plant
  • 12 bags of corn chips
  • 6 #10 cans of “nacho” “cheese”
  • 4 giant bags of pre-popped popcorn
  • 4 crates of faux juice drink

Guess whose boss apparently asked her to “pick up a few things” on her lunch break? One salad and the plant had to be rang up separately from the other salad, and then all the mega-serving party food.  When we finally got out of the checkout lane with our own lunch, Art Lady was wolfing her salad down at the steering wheel of her car while the sacker shoved stuff in her trunk. Even that was interrupted because there was too much stuff and she had to abandon her “lunch” to help the guy find places for all that “nacho” “cheese”. The checker said she should have told her boss no and taken an actual lunch break. Checkers got Union and they don’t put up with that shizzle. I know from doing the job back in the olden days that many times in assistant positions, saying no is not an option if you want to stay employed.

So, dear daughter (and other people’s kids too), while there are worse jobs, that administrative assistant thing is not as glamorous as it looks. You may be getting feta cheese crumbles and tears all over that pretty scarf and the steering wheel while your boss wonders (these days by text message) why you’re dawdling over your lunch.

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