My First Job

My First Job isn't nearly as interesting as Deepak's insightful night as a residence intern but mine, as a babysitter, presented its own set of problems to a scrawny ten year old who needed to pay for her own clothes and school supplies. I recall dealing with Danny, a spoiled, bright, forever on-the-brink-of-tantrum boy, who fought back whenever he felt out of control. Any “No” or even the slightest variation of “No” caused him to throw himself on the ground, bite, kick and scream, or at times, race into his room, slam the door, hide under the bed, fall asleep and make me look like a complete idiot when the parents came home and he was still sequestered in his lair. I’d sit, after droning in front of the tv for hours, reading my books, and finally, hiding behind curtains, at the front window, hoping and praying the folks would come home. I would play a game of “The Next Car That Comes ‘Round the Corner is Theirs” until I was nearly dropping off into REM sleep. I ate to stay awake, anything that contained more than 100% of the caloric limit of sugar per day was game. Though, at Danny’s house, the mother was obviously a perpetual dieter because all of the items in the cabinets, cupboards and frig were injected with artificial sweeteners whose packaging might have tasted better than the contents. I must have been paid well enough, at that particular household, since I accepted more gigs, and being in charge of Devilish Danny. I know you are jealous, Deepak Chopra, MD!