(First published at www.theconversation.wamu.org)
As I become more aware of my own aging process the feast of All Hallows serves as a reminder of a particular social divide which permeates ours, and probably everyone else's, workplace.
I'm privileged to have been invited to a plethora of Halloween parties this year. Some will be those great adult affairs of outrageous costumes and copious amounts of alcohol. Others are pizza and neighborhood trick or treating with the kids and the golden retriever. Much as my alter ego might yearn for the former, as a parent I am compelled to the latter, although some socially conscious friends are offering "combo" parties which start with the kids and end with the booze.
But there's no escaping it. With a beautiful five-year-old and a charmingly mischievous two-year-old I am a fully paid-up member of our office's secret society - the parents. You know us. We're the ones who talk in hushed tones around each other's desks about nannies and insurance and school applications.
We waver between guilt and innocence. One moment I am self-righteous, dumping the "Unfunded Priorities" meeting for a minor toothache and expecting everyone else to rearrange their schedules. Next, the vulnerable victim who, after a sleepless night of wailing and screaming from the crib, creeps around the office medical box in search of aspirin to the sound of guffaws from colleagues about hangovers.
There are the stifled yawns during meetings. The nervous twitch towards the vibrating cell phone. Then there was the day I showed up with chocolate all down my pants (yes - you guessed where), and the afternoon when I opened a spreadsheet to demonstrate a work flow diagram with a giant egg-yolk stain apparently strategically placed down the center.
There is no escape. Most of my co-workers tolerate my erraticism. Let's face it; they don't have any other option. But some of my (mostly) younger, single, colleagues are nonplussed. And every now and then, just occasionally, I yearn for the day when I was nonplussed, too. Was it really that long ago?
But then I remember I'm going trick or treating, with orange juice to follow.
