Pregnant Pause, story by Linda McKenney (MY FIRST JOB Poetry and Prose Series)

Pregnant Pause
by Linda McKenney

I sat waiting, in a large theater, with hundreds of other high school students who’d passed an exam for state employment.  We were interviewed according to our grade on the test.  I was fourth in line.  The position was beginning office worker, which meant you had to do whatever a superior desired.  Responsibilities included typing, transcription, filing, making copies and other duties as assigned.  I accepted.

My boss had a monotone voice, so I often dozed off while typing up his letters.  The interesting aspect of that was I continued to type.  Of course, the marks on the paper made no sense, so I had to begin all over again.  If there was a need for more than one copy of the document, we used sheets of carbon paper.  The ink would get all over your fingers and sometimes clothes.  More than two copies required a mimeograph.

This printing process used an ink-filled cylinder and ink pad. Documents were prepared on a special wax-covered stencil on a typewriter that had its ribbon disengaged. The typewriter thus made impressions in the stencil, which was filled with ink and squeezed onto paper by the mimeograph’s roller.

I married six months after I graduated from high school.  Shortly after that, I was interviewed for a promotion.  The man who would be my new boss told me that while I was qualified for the position, he wasn’t going to hire me.

“I noticed that you are wearing a wedding ring,” he said.  “In my experience, young married women get pregnant and then quit their jobs.  I don’t want to invest time training you and have you leave.”

What he said made sense to me, so I never questioned his decision.

Six months later I was pregnant and quit my job.

IMAGE: “Pregnant Woman” by Otto Dix (1930).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Linda McKenney is a Personal Life Coach, Motivational Speaker, and Writer, specializing in Mindful Living and Eating. She continually reinvents herself, and her new adventure is writing creative nonfiction. Her most recent work is published in Silver Birch Press, 101 Word Short Stories, The Survivor’s Review, The Rush, and Helen: A Literary Magazine. You can join Linda on her Mindful journey by visiting her blog –- majokmindfuleating.com. She also has an alter ego at Susanbanthony.live.

Babysitter, poem by Allison Carvalho (MY FIRST JOB Poetry and Prose Series)

Babysitter
by Allison Carvalho

My first job was dull and I did most of my work on the couch
I was a lady of the night
While the parents went off to play.

My first job groomed me for suburbancy
Prepared me for the life my lady lineage had lived
My first job had given me a stamp of adulthood
At 13 years old.

My first job was domestic.

You see,
My first job was riddled with ethics of care
Patronizing fathers
And mothers who couldn’t do it all.

My first job marked the moment between girl and woman,
And yet for so many women
It isn’t considered work.

IMAGE: “Young woman seated” by Amedeo Modlgliani (1918).

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Allison Carvalho is a student, researcher, and aspiring adult. Her poetry tries to acknowledge how societal constructions/assumptions inform personal experience. Her work ironically covers relationships, gender oppression, emotionality, grief, and the occasional reference to the evils of capitalism. She is always a week behind on her word of the day calendar. She likes using the word “she” a lot. And if you knew her, you might only maybe guess she wrote this poem.

Gender Inequality, story by Kerry E.B. Black (MY FIRST JOB Poetry and Prose Series)

Gender Inequality
by Kerry E.B. Black

As enterprising preteens, my brother and I shoveled neighbors’ driveways every winter to earn a little cash. One winter afternoon, we trudged along, shovels slung over our shoulders, noses and cheeks pinched red by wind and cold. Our feet crinkled in our boots, because our mom made us wear plastic bread bags over our socks to keep dry.

We hunched over heavy piles of accumulated snow, shoulders and backs straining with the effort. We set up a competition. “I’ll get more done than you,” we’d taunt, and the good-natured rivalry helped speed the tasks. In truth, though, our labors pretty much equaled out.

We hurried up the driveway of a widower whose surly reputation preceded him. With some foreboding, I knocked and asked if he needed our services. He narrowed his eyes. Under his scrutiny, I grew conscious of our mismatched outerwear and shabby coats. I squared my shoulders and repeated my question. “Mr. Penney, do you want us to shovel your driveway?”

He pointed his cane at the braids poking from beneath my tassel cap. “You a girl?”

My words puffed out like dragon breaths. “Yes, sir.”

“Well, shovelin’s boy’s work.” He nodded to my brother. “You can clear the snow.” He shoved me in the chest with his cane. “You go home and learn to sew or bake or something.”

I felt as though I’d been slapped. “Sir, my brother and I work together.”

“Go home, girl. I don’t want any of your feminist crap, and don’t you start crying, either.”

Nostrils flaring, blood pumping, I turned homeward. “Let’s go, Chris.”

The old man’s voice quivered. “Pay you double what you’re askin’, son, if you do a good job.”

My brother stayed, and I, indignant and disgusted, huffed home, feeling betrayed and enraged.

IMAGE: The author as a young entrepreneur.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kerry E.B. Black writes from a small suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA, the eldest of her siblings and a virtual slave to the responsibilities of parenthood and pet ownership. Follow her on Facebook Facebook and Twitter.