So You Think You Can Kvetch

Closed Monday - Friday

"I'm bored," says the eldest.  How can he be bored?  He's only been up for 15 minutes, and it's 1 o'clock.  Since I have nothing else to do, I wade into his bottomless pit of despair.  "What are you bored with?"  "Everything," he says.  "Everybody."  Glutton for punishment, I push ahead.  "What can I do to help?"  "Find me a job," he says.  "But the other day, you told me to stop helping you."  "I did not."  "Uh, yes you did." 

"I'm so bored, I forgot."  "Do you want my help?"  "Sure, why not."  "Try not to sound too enthusiastic, honey."  We proceed with low expectations toward the computer, and command various job sites to find a fabulous, high-paying opportunity for the recent college grad, one that requires no experience, other than showing up on time and sitting in a chair.  Our exhaustive search turns up a wealth of bupkis.  "No results found."  He's a bit sensitive these days, so I tread lightly.  "Maybe we should omit 'mandatory bi-monthly paid vacation to Europe,' from your list of demands."  He rolls his eyes.  "Maybe not."  "Let's take a break," I suggest, shoving a cookie in his mouth.  After all, we've been at this for two minutes.  "@#$% this!" he mumbles, spewing Milano crumbs. "I'll come up with my own @#$%'n job." 

This time, I shove a cookie up his nose, and wonder:  Where the @#$% did the boy learn to talk like that?  And then, my mind drifts back to the time, two decades ago, when I was talking on the phone with a producer, trying to procure my own fabulous, high-paying opp, and my precious toddler ordered me to, "Get the hell off the goddamn phone, Mommy!"  It was adorable. 

So fine, the kid's been cursing since birth.  I blame hubby.  I don't see him helping with the job search.  Except for several hundred calls he's made on our son's behalf.  Lest hubby forget his new quest in life, I call him up hourly and whine.  "Have you found him anything yet?"  "Not since you asked me five minutes ago."

While we wait for hubby to work miracles, Billy and I come up with a series of consulting jobs he'd shine at, all of them way too crass to list here.  Let's just say he's qualified to do many things, none of which belongs on a standard resume.  In the meantime, we're launching a website: http://www.get-billy-an-f'n-job.com/.  Feel free to hire him, as long as you don't mind his potty mouth.