Published December 2001 in "Social Consciousness: Voices of the Concerned"
I'm a rovering reporter. I cover the latest social issues and trends. Lately I've become interested in a group of people who are known as homemakers. I've been told that they actually stay home, keep the home fires burning and look after their children. Now here's the clincher: They don't get paid. Imagine that.
These people must truly be nobodies. I decided it was time to interview some of these beings to see if they possessed souls.
Where to stalk such a creature? The supermarket seemed like a good place to start as they must need to stock up on food between soap operas or whatever mundane activities they are involved in.
I spotted my first target walking aimlessly through the bakery section. She was a trifle overweight and her eyes looked rather tired, perhaps due to watching too much television. She was moving disinterestedly, giving a package here and there an unsuspecting pinch. Surely this was one of my prey. I advanced timidly and summoned the courage to ask the degrading question: "Madame are you a homemaker?"
"What did you say?" she asked as she pinched a loaf of raisin bread.
I tried to speak louder. "Are you a homemaker?"
"No, I'm a lawyer and I'm on my lunch break." She reached out and squeezed a package of cinnamon buns. "You just can't get freshly baked goods anymore," she lamented.
I apologized for mistaking her for a homemaker.
"Oh don't feel badly, my mother's a homemaker," she said brightly as she continued her round of the bakery section.
I decided that I would have to be more discerning in choosing my next victim.
She was walking by the canned goods area when I accosted her. She looked very ordinary except the hair at the back of her head was matted. Surely this must be one of them.
This time I advanced confidently. "Madame, are you a homemaker?" I asked.
"Most certainly not," was the tart reply. "I would never be a homemaker; it's too boring."
"What do you do then, for a living? I mean."
"I work for a soft drink company. I check the bottles to make sure there're no surprises in them," she said forthrightly.
"Sounds exciting," I replied.
"Yeh, it is and I get paid for it."
After this episode I felt defeated. Where were these elusive creatures? Just then I noticed a smart-looking woman pushing her shopping cart toward an exit. I thought perhaps she could help me. After my first two faulty attempts I was afraid to get right to the point so we chatted on a few other topics first. She answered my question intelligently and then I hit her with the big one.
"Do you know any homemakers and do you think they have souls?"
She laughed and just then two children ran from a bubble gum machine by the door and grabbed her around the knees. Suddenly, her image changed in front of me. Her eyes became duller and her speech less articulate.
"You're one of them, aren't you?" I stammered.
"Yes, I am," she said quietly.
"Do you have a soul?" I demanded to know.
"Sometimes I do, especially at night after the kids are all tucked into bed," was her bland reply. She then pushed the cart out of the door with the children still clinging to her knees.
I ran after her. "Madame, what does that mean? Do you or do you not possess a soul?"
She laughed wickedly and answered, "We're having sole for dinner."
She then strapped her kids into their child seats and sped out of the parking lot.
That was the end of it for me. I was as mystified as when I started. I decided to shelve the homemaker topic and do something on a more socially relevant topic: the severe shortage of affordable daycare.