Amy's new job
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Published on 03.08.11 05:26 Age: 12 yrs
Letters : 8798 Words : 1693
By: The Administrator
A few weeks after writing her letter to her mom announcing that she is a naturist now, Amy decides to apply for a job at DeriMark systems. This is a sequel to "The Letter".
"So Amy, we've heard that you are new at naturism. Did you decide to join the lifestyle simply to get a job here?"
I knew it was a trick question. I had been one of the rare still textile students until recently and my mother is especially vocal against naturism. My conversion and subsequent application to become a DeriMark employee did sound suspicious.
"No Mrs Page. I decided to try becoming a naturist quite a long time ago. Even last year, during the last real confrontation on the subject in high school, I had decided that naturism was for me. I was always an outspoken person and frankly, I admit I love the way the town now operates. Naturism really helped everyone and I think it's a very healthy lifestyle. Since I first removed my clothes a few weeks ago, not once did I feel the need to turn back and wear them again."
I had met Mrs Page in school a few times and she always had seemed to be warm and affectionate. Like most of the DeriMarks employees that move to the town after the transition, I had never seen her wear clothes but I couldn't imagine her wearing a dull grey office suit. She looked more the type to push the boundaries of the dress code to the limit.
"But you didn't try it until recently", she responded with just as much care and positive vibes as I had remembered her.
"Well, you have to understand that my mom was pretty much the most vocal anti-naturist still in town and the only reason she no longer bickers with everyone about it is because I finally got the courage to stand up to my mom about my convictions."
"And how is she taking it, your mom?"
"It's hard. She barely speaks to me now and that's why I want a job. I want to be able to perhaps live on my own once I am 18 so that I can support myself. Slowly, she seems to accept it. She once again cooks for the both of us now and starting this week, she places herself a towel on my chair if I am late. I guess it's a good sign."
"I understand. We do not have a lot of openings for minors at this moment. We already hire more of the students part time and what we really need are full time employees. I mean, we have a enough students already doing janitorial work so we initially thought to simply tell you that there was no job opening. My superior however, thought of a position for which you would personally be the best candidate but it's rather delicate."
What did they have in mind exactly?
"More importantly, it's a job which will enable you to slowly move within the ranks of the company, especially during summer vacations."
What did they have in mind?
"You see Amy, there is one crucial position in our company which is seriously causing us problems, and that the position of shipper. Everyday, we have dozens of boxes leaving our docks for the post office and the roughly same number coming back from the post office.
We also use other carriers, but we have absolutely no problems with them. The only one causing us problems is the local postmaster, your mother.
She refuses to talk to our employees and as a result, it causes us problems with our mail delivery. According to current USPS rules, when your mother drops us our packages, she is supposed to pickup our outgoing mail but she refuses to even acknowledge that we are talking to her, forcing us to waste time sending one to her office.
We think, we hope, that if you were in charge of USPS shipments, both inbound and outbound, you might be able to get more things done. Perhaps find a way to get your mom to cooperate with us. We would really need you only for the 10 minutes that your mom sees us, late in the afternoon after she closes the post office and as such, it wouldn't interfere with your school work. For the first week, we'd pay you for an hour plus the time you are actually in the shipping dock where you would help us organize things as you can. All you would actually need to do is take the packages from your mother, sign for them in our name and try to get her to accept our boxes."
Wow, I could barely talk to my mother as it was. Would that make things worse or not?
"And after a week?"
"If all goes well, we'll get you more hours if you want more. During the summer, you would have even more hours if you want as a replacement during vacations. Eventually, you'll be able to get more responsibilities in the shipping department such as perhaps collecting the outbound shipments from production or distributing the returns and the envelopes to the various departments. When you turn 18, we might help you get your own apartment and if you want to work full time after you graduate it might be the start of a career with us. Sure, it's not a very prestigious position, but you would have your feet in the company and might rise within our ranks."
"How many hours might I get until then?"
"We are thinking only 2 or 3 per day, so 10 to 15 hours per week. It's less than many of your friends doing 25 to 30 hours, but unlike them you will have a chance to climb the ranks if you do your job right. Most of them are just doing temporary jobs and will be replaced by the next students to turn 17. You will get to keep your job for a few years and loyalty is rewarded at DeriMark."
It was a tempting offer. It's not like I could really go to college or had any special skills.
"I'll take it. When do I start?"
"Today. You mom is going to drop our mail in the next 30 minutes or so. Let's get you settled".
I followed Mrs Page to the shipping dock where boxes were piled up. As soon as I was introduced simply as a new employee and Mrs. Page left, I realized I was the only woman in the division. The other 3 employees were all older men, one of which I recognized as living on our street, Adam. He didn't seem to recognize me but then again, I had been a naturist for only a short period of time.
All of them warned me of how much of a pain in the ass the postmaster was and gave me tips on how to handle her. I was shown how to use a pallet lift and they helped me bring the boxes outside, to wait for my mom.
I didn't dare tell them the connection, so I stayed outside until I saw the only official USPS truck in town pull up.
"Amy, what are you doing here?", exclaimed my mom as soon as she recognized me.
"DeriMark hired me part time to handle their mail. They thought it would help me forge better bonds with my mother."
"Well, they were wrong. It's presumptuous of them."
"Maybe mom, but at least I have a job and next year, if you want me to move out, I'll be able to. That way, you won't have to talk to me again or even see me naked."
"Honey, I don't want you to leave. I love you. It's these people I don't like"
"Well, mom, now I am part of these people. I live like them, and I like it. They accept me, why can't you?"
We hadn't really spoken since I had given her my letter. I know she read it, but we didn't talk.
My mom got closer to me and pushed one of my bangs to the side like she used to, ever since I was a child.
"Well, I am there if you want to talk."
She got closer and hugged me for the first time in years. Even before I decided to try naturism, there had been a barrier between us.
"It's so hard. I remember when you were a kid, trying clothes and being excited by a new dress. I remember you dressing up for church or Christmas. They all robbed me of that"
"That little girl is still me, mom, but I moved on. We still have those memories but I am almost an adult now. I am almost old enough to move out. You raised me well, you thought me to hold my ground and stick to my principles. Well, I do so now. Can you accept that?"
When we parted our hug, tears were flowing from both of us but soon enough, I had new boxes to bring inside and my mother was loading her truck from this loading dock for the first time since DeriMark came on town.
When I got inside, my tears had stopped flowing by I was still wet from them: it's not like I could use my sleeve to wipe them off.
I simply said while leaving: "She's my mom", as all three of my coworkers attempted to remove their feet from their mouth.
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