Non-Career Day

 Here is the writing exercise for this week:

CAREER DAY. You've agreed to give a talk at your child's school for Career Day. Not only do you hate public speaking, you found out yesterday that you've been fired from your job - and you haven't told your kid yet. Write what happens when you go to the school to present. (500 words or less).

How do y'all think I did?

“And now, Mrs. Wilson, Carly’s mom, will share with the class. Welcome, Mrs. Wilson.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Casters,” I said, although I wanted to be anywhere but in Carly’s class that morning. 

When Carly had told me about career day a month ago, I was excited. I wanted to enlighten young minds on the wonders of accounting. I was looking forward to telling them why accounting was important and that it was a fulfilling, well-paying occupation. 

It was still all those things, but, unfortunately, not for me. Not only was I fired yesterday, but I was looking down the barrel of a full-fledged investigation into all my clients’ records. 

If I could just get through career day, I planned to explain what happened to Carly and prepare her for what lay ahead. 

“Hello, class. I’m here today to talk about the profession of accounting. I’ve been an accountant for twenty years and find it very rewarding.”

“Working for the mob usually is,” someone called from the back of the room. 

Before I could gather my wits again, Carly had rounded on the heckler with a vengeance. “You take that back, Mark Johnson,” she ordered, her little fist inches from his nose. 

It was then that I recognized Trent Johnson’s son. Trent was our local sheriff and the one who was looking into my case.

“What’s the matter, Mrs. Goody Two Shoes; you don’t want everyone to know your mommy works for the mob?” Mark teased. 

“Does not!” Carly insisted.

“Does too!”

“Shut up, Mark, or so help me you’ll be sorry.”

“Make me!” Mark challenged.

Mrs. Casters was struggling to keep the two children apart while they continued to argue. I knew I had to put a stop to things before my child was beat to a pulp. I just wasn’t sure how. Carly solved the problem for me, although not in a way I would have preferred. 

“Tell him, Mom,” she screamed across the room. “Tell him you don’t work for the mob.”

I was happy I didn’t have to lie.

“I do not work for the mob,” I informed the class and my teary-eyed daughter. 

“Not anymore,” Mark said, and then at my indrawn breath, he added, “She was fired yesterday.”