My Life as the First
Knocked-Up Coworker in America
by Mattie Brooks
"Mornin', big momma" the President of the company chimes in my ear as I walk my pregnant ass to my 4 ft. walled cubicle. I'm the first woman to become pregnant (or disabled apparently, according to office reactions) at my floundering dot-com job. The men in the office seem totally freaked out by my "state" and can't seem to focus on anything other than my physical condition when I'm around. "So how's the incubation going?" quips the vertically-challenged telemarketer from down the hall. Yes, apparently now I am nothing more than a walking science experiment in sensible shoes.
"So, you comin' back to work after you have the baby?" seems to be the million dollar question. See, most of the men in the office have stay-at-home wives and a houseful-o-kiddies, because ya know, that's how it's supposed to be. They all go to the same "church". I use that term "church" lightly because it's one of those "churches" that meets in the gymnasium of the local high school. They see no need for women to work. They are completely appalled that I insist on coming into work, day after day after day. Never mind that I have more experience in my pinky than they have collectively. Never mind that I can hurl on command these days. Don't mess with me.
Eight months, 3 days and one epidural later, the baby arrives. I take the requisite 6 week recuperating period and yet again, prance my ass back into the cubicle maze, squeezing my postpartum body back into my prepartum suit. As I float through the web of obligatory comments from coworkers... "Glad you're back"... "Are you going to cry?"... "How's that baby?"... I just smile, knowing they were all secretly hoping that I might die during this mysterious child birthing experience. I notice that my cubicle has been seriously pilfered -- my custom-fitted ergonomic chair now resides at the intern's desk -- my desk lamp at the receptionist's table -- my once 21-inch monitor has magically transformed into a 15-inch piece of shit.
I sit down at my ransacked desk. I get the feeling that my presence is offending my boss -- ya know, because even though his wife has a law degree, she stays home with the kids. Five minutes later here comes "Chinless" (the Vice President): "Can I see you in my office?"
Yeah. Let go on my first day back from maternity leave. Imagine that.
Mattie Brooks: Designer extraordinaire, addicted to IMing her friends and spiking the coffee pot at work.
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