I have two jobs. One of them is this glorious job as a sort-of assistant in a semi-fulltime-capacity, with a really, very cool person who does terrific work. That’s all I’m allowed to say about that.
The other job is a grimy position as a cleaning lady in Manhattan. I don’t like to talk about it for obvious reasons, but this one night last week, I found myself in the offices of this other job – a place I avoid with all purpose. But, there I am in this room with a bunch of fat Latina women with an attitude and a Bronx haircut , and the people who work there are children. All of them. My age, Harvard graduates – ALL WHITE and all beautiful – an office full of Sorority Girls and Frat Boys. As someone who fits more snugly within the grouping of the latter, I was quite uncomfortable.
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