For those who aren't dorkier-than their-own-parents middle-aged-acting NPR listeners, let me elaborate. Bee-Bop-A-Ree-Bop Rhubarb Pie is one of the fake sponsors of Garrision Keillior's A Prarie Home Companion
I have been applying for a job working an an assistant to a program in the department where Paul works at our alma mater (me undergrad, him MSW). We'd be less than 100 feet away from each other, and it's a part-time gig so I could keep freelancing. Everybody there seems remarkably family-friendly for an academic environment. If I were going to go back to a nine-to-five while Maggie is little, it's ideal.
But guess what? I FAILED THE TYPING TEST.
A motherf-ing typing test. Want to know my IQ? 131, people. And guess what I do for a living? And have for more than 10 years? A job that requires lots of, you guessed it, TYPING. Fast typing. But because I couldn't clear the bar of 40 wpm, I am out of the running here, I think. Yes. 40. Words. A. Minute. A monkey could type that fast. Apparently it's possible to be an award-winning reporter and reasonably successful freelancer without being able to type.
Making this more embarassing, the person to whom I would report is someone I have known since I was like 14. She's a good friend of my mom's. So I have to email her and say yes, it did sound like I'd be a good fit for this job but guess what? I am too HOPELESSY LAME to pass the typing test (I should add there was a clerical test too, which I rocked).
It is a blessing in disguise, I guess; I've been really leery about putting Maggie in that much daycare (nothing wrong with daycare, mind you, I take no side in the Mommy Wars but it just doesn't feel right TO ME). She's in a super-clingy phase right now and wouldn't go to sleep Saturday until Paul and I got home from a night out with friends. And even then it was me she wanted, because I'd barely been home all day and she missed me. I've also been nervous about a "real" job --- it's been almost five years since I have been out on my own. I don't know how my friends who work full-time do it all, and I worry about my capabilities to do the same. Last time I worked an outside-the-house job, I was newly married and lived in an apartment with Paul and two cats; now I have a house (with attendant yard), a dog, and a child to consider. I also feel like I have exactly no time now; trying to maintain my freelance clients and add 20 working hours a week would be a strain.
I wasn't sure if I was going to take the job if I even got it, but to be out of the running for something so lame is just embarassing. Pie, anyone?