The Last Laugh
A few months ago, when I was picking up the children at school, another mother I knew well, rushed up to me. Emily was fuming with indignation.
"Do you know what you and I are?" she demanded.
Before I could answer - and I didn't really have one handy - she blurted out the reason for her question. It seemed she had just returned from renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office. Asked by the woman recorder to state her "occupation," Emily had hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
"What I mean is," explained the recorder, "Do you have a job, or are you just a....?"