I work in corporate retail. Just for the summer, because as much fun as it is to fold pants and pick up after grown people in fitting rooms, I have bigger and better things to do, like get married and become a trophy wife.
But some trophy wives should really employ nannies, or quit with all the sex, because my new number one gripe about working as a retail whore is the children. Which is strange, because I work in a store that sells adult clothing. Yes, there is a kids section, but why are all the children in MY section? Why are all the children pulling the magnetic appendages off the mannequins, hitting themselves in the face, and then blaming me? Why are some people even allowed to procreate at all?
I think every adult should have to take a parenting class, and then do a trial run with some test children (never mind where these children will come from, we’ll cross that bridge later) and if they don’t pass, they should be sterilized. Or at least, have to shadow some gold-star parents until they know what to do. Because I have seen some very unruly rugrats, and if the children whose parents shop in my store are any indication, the apocolypse should be coming any day now. And when that day comes, America is definitely going to have to develop it’s own, non-British version of “Super Nanny” with more spanking.
And if you think I’m kidding about any of this, the next time your kid smacks himself in the face with a plastic leg, you remember this and start planning that vasectomy!