The job I won’t be applying for

Amid mixed emotions, the school summer holiday is over!

I must admit, when it started, 10 weeks ago, this weekend seemed a distant, almost far-fetched prospect.

Thousands of miles later, we’ve made it through to September, with our sanity intact (laughs skittishly). We’ve been to theme parks, palaces, museums, railways, state parks, lakes, beaches – you name it. All heaving with families in the UK and surprisingly hot and sweaty in the US (who would have guessed there’d be Dubai-like weather in the mid-west of America?)

Me, soon – if I haven’t been completely forgotten, that is
There’s been a great deal of joy. A lot of laughter. Special times with loved ones and friends I don’t see enough of.

The happy stuff precious memories are made of.

But, inevitably, we’re also had our fair share of cranky kids, time-zone changes, food thrown back in our faces, sibling spats and over-tired tantrums [whispers: this mommy might actually go on strike if anyone suggests another ‘fun-filled’ outing to a family attraction].

So, while sad it’s all over, I can’t wait to get back into a routine – which also means putting out feelers to see if anyone who I freelance for actually remembers me after such a long break.

With the thought of an air-conditioned office with minimal noise and everyone’s bums firmly in their seats sounding quite appealing right now, I found myself browsing some media jobs online – and clicked on this ad that set out the following (ideal) requirements for the ‘superstar’ they hoped to employ:

● You write articles that make people laugh hysterically. Even you don’t believe how funny you are.

● People around can’t stop appreciating your creativity, wit, passion, imagination and how wonderfully you articulate your thoughts into words.

● Your pen is your magic wand, and you can take simple ideas or boring dry facts and effortlessly convert them into exciting, engaging and humorous articles with your magic powers.

● Your proactivity makes people around you seem very lazy.

● Your command over spoken and written English would give Shakespeare a complex.

● You know the effort it takes to be part of a winning team and if it wasn’t for this job you would be running for the American presidency.

That’s a tall order, for a superstar with bells on. Suddenly my life of mainly mummydom sounds so much more do-able.

And fun!

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