(Excerpt from Real Time Wreck)
I made an appointment today to be evaluated by a vocational expert. What fun! At long last I’ll find out if my current job as stay-at-home-mom has earned me any street cred, or if, in fact, serving sausage patties 20 years ago at Bob Evans was the apex of my career.
This amusing little diversion is being “offered” to me compliments of my estranged husband, who was kind enough to bring this matter before a judge, who was gracious enough to pen the invitation on fancy paper with a Cook County logo on it, and even stamp it with a fancy stamp.
It’s all part of that intricate pas de deux known as The Divorce Proceeding. And while I’m told that it’s not uncommon for a working husband to want a non-working wife to be given a gentle nudge toward employment, I know of only one other person (my cousin) who was “invited” to career counseling. Her ex-husband is a prince, a successful hotshot who had it all, including a pregnant girlfriend in Mexico. My cousin was tested and questioned and evaluated and told that she might make a good office manager. She’s now finishing anatomy and biology, on her way to becoming a registered nurse. Which is a shame, because she makes a mean cup of coffee.