Marge didn't have to wait long at the unemployment office. She had made an appointment to meet with a man named John McBride about getting a new job. She had majored in accounting, but didn't have any relevant experience in accounting. Marge's old job was wearing her out. She was on her feet all day. She needed special shoes with arch support.
She was sitting outside of McBride's office when the door opened.
McBride was partially bald, and had a paunch. He wore a tie and a white shirt. He looked like your typical office jock, working in a dead end job.
"Marge? C'mon in ..."
She went in timidly, clutching her handbag. He indicated a chair where she should sit. So she sat. Her short skirt rode up her thighs. She was a good looking redhead with a slim figure. Her legs were her best asset.
"Well, how are we doing today?" McBride began.
"I'm OK." She replied. "I've never applied for unemployment before ..."
"Not to worry. We'll put together a short resume, enter it into our system ..."
"OK." She felt better already.
"Now, what have you been doing for the past five years?"
"I've been on the streets. I've been a sex worker ..."
He typed something into the computer.
"Can you be a bit more specific?" McBride's interest perked up.
"I've been a prostitute. A whore ..."
"I'm getting too old for this -" she added.
He searched through the database, trying to match her experience with a code number. It was like the code in your IRS tax return.
"I'm trying to match your experience with -"
"Try hooker," she suggested. "Call girl. Except I wasn't a call girl. I would work the streets. Stand in front of a pool hall. Or a beer joint... even in front of a church. "