Before I know it, it will be upon me: the inevitable return to more “gainful” employment. With two out of three children potentially at school next year and Mr McGee starting kindergarten, it is only a matter of time…
Of course, mostly I’m relying on an anonymous but incredibly wealthy patron offering to pay me to write about my children’s amusing vomiting escapades. As far as planning for the future goes, I think this is entirely realistic.
ANYWAY, of my local mothers’ group, MW will be the first cab out of the ranks next year with both her kids at school. Everyone keeps telling her she won’t know herself. I suspect that she will still know herself but will probably advise her to have her name and Tax File Number tattooed on the back of her hand. Just in case.
So there MW was the other day, talking to me about how she’d been trying to think of a business plan that could utilise all of the various skills we have in our mothers’ group. Perhaps an idea for a business in an area where we weren’t necessarily experts but where we might had some untapped talents that could be developed and earn us a bit of money.
I leant forward, slightly incredulous and yet excited at the same time: “Are you thinking of starting a brothel??”
MW laughed. “Nooooo!” she said. “I was thinking more along the lines of a catering business!”
But it was too late. In my mind her business plan was set. We were going to start the Best Little Whorehouse in West Blah-Blah-Blah. Although possibly without actual sex on the menu – I mean, c’mon! Who’s got the energy for that shit? Maybe men could pay to watch us nap. Or watch us hang out the washing, empty the compost bin or rearrange the plastic containers cupboard. You know, all the things that seem to drive our poor neglected husbands crazy with desire.
Or, if we wanted to get really racy, we could stand around licking cake mix off our fingers, Nigella Lawson-style. Or iron and fold the patron’s underwear for them. Or even count to three and then put them on the Naughty Spot for hours at a time…
But then something happened which pushed this Business Plan into a whole new exciting direction… At a mothers’ group gathering the following evening, I made a special point of telling everyone – including the menfolk in attendance – about MW’s Business Plan. As the mothers started excitedly bandying about ideas, I became aware of my husband and a fellow dad standing quietly in the corner, “Just Listening”.
And I realised then and there, that men might even pay us just to talk about starting a whorehouse. Which, when you think about it, is exactly my kind of Business Plan: all talk, no action. Sorted.