Our TG Captionpage 10
written by... Gwarfom
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“Oh nice...wait, almost 31 and still a receptionist?“ You ask, clearly patronizing her.
“I beg your pardon?” She’s blushing now, and raising her voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” you say, clearing your throat. “It seems you don’t seem to have a good position on the corporate ladder, and you are already in your 30s. If you are this far in a rut, I’m guessing no boyfriend, let alone husband and kids. I mean, what are you even doing?”
“Sir,” she says quietly, twitching with fury. “Please leave the building right now. I’m a hard and ambitious worker and I will not tolerate you belittling me like this.”
You give her a heartily laugh.
“Oh don’t get all huffy. I mean let’s face it, you aren’t really that hard of a worker at all. That’s why you are still a receptionist.
Like a balloon, Alison’s work ethic pops away from her brain; reality changes so that she was never diligent in her work.
“I-I...uh...so what?” She says, shrugging. “A job is a job, and I at least find it somewhat enga-”
“And another thing: you don’t even like working. And it’s not like you could even find a job you like, given the fact that you dropped out of college because it was too hard.”
Just like that, Alison’s MBA and college experience, along with a fair bit of her intelligence, was erased. She now remembered dropping out, and considering herself lucky she even got a job...that she didn’t want.
“I don’t, like, need to hear this shit from you,” she says, her voice now a fair bit higher and her expression much less sophisticated. “Just get out of my fuckin’ face.”
“But Alison, I’m speaking the truth. You always wanted to be a mother with a man to pay the bills. You with a job? Don’t kid yourself.”
Alison remembered always wanting children since she was a little girl. Whenever she played with dolls, she was the mommy. When her high school friends dreamed of entering nursing or being teachers, she proudly said she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. She honestly should have stayed clear of college, now that she thinks about it.
“I...uh...of course I don’t wanna work. But I have to, OK? Just leave me alone. I have shit to do.” She starts to walk away. “But you don’t. Alison, you a 30-year-old housewife. We’re in your house, and I am your husband’s friend. He should be home in 5 minutes.”
You two are indeed now in a house, and you notice Alison’s now wearing a red top with a denim skirt, and her hair is now longer again. She looks so happy!
“Alison?”
She shakes her head, now fully adjusted to this new reality.
“Oh! Silly me, just spaced out there. Want a drink?”
“I’m good,” you say.
“I beg your pardon?” She’s blushing now, and raising her voice. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” you say, clearing your throat. “It seems you don’t seem to have a good position on the corporate ladder, and you are already in your 30s. If you are this far in a rut, I’m guessing no boyfriend, let alone husband and kids. I mean, what are you even doing?”
“Sir,” she says quietly, twitching with fury. “Please leave the building right now. I’m a hard and ambitious worker and I will not tolerate you belittling me like this.”
You give her a heartily laugh.
“Oh don’t get all huffy. I mean let’s face it, you aren’t really that hard of a worker at all. That’s why you are still a receptionist.
Like a balloon, Alison’s work ethic pops away from her brain; reality changes so that she was never diligent in her work.
“I-I...uh...so what?” She says, shrugging. “A job is a job, and I at least find it somewhat enga-”
“And another thing: you don’t even like working. And it’s not like you could even find a job you like, given the fact that you dropped out of college because it was too hard.”
Just like that, Alison’s MBA and college experience, along with a fair bit of her intelligence, was erased. She now remembered dropping out, and considering herself lucky she even got a job...that she didn’t want.
“I don’t, like, need to hear this shit from you,” she says, her voice now a fair bit higher and her expression much less sophisticated. “Just get out of my fuckin’ face.”
“But Alison, I’m speaking the truth. You always wanted to be a mother with a man to pay the bills. You with a job? Don’t kid yourself.”
Alison remembered always wanting children since she was a little girl. Whenever she played with dolls, she was the mommy. When her high school friends dreamed of entering nursing or being teachers, she proudly said she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. She honestly should have stayed clear of college, now that she thinks about it.
“I...uh...of course I don’t wanna work. But I have to, OK? Just leave me alone. I have shit to do.” She starts to walk away. “But you don’t. Alison, you a 30-year-old housewife. We’re in your house, and I am your husband’s friend. He should be home in 5 minutes.”
You two are indeed now in a house, and you notice Alison’s now wearing a red top with a denim skirt, and her hair is now longer again. She looks so happy!
“Alison?”
She shakes her head, now fully adjusted to this new reality.
“Oh! Silly me, just spaced out there. Want a drink?”
“I’m good,” you say.
What do you do?
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