Member Articles

I take my business seriously. From the moment I decided to leave corporate America and set up shop at home, I was bound and determined to keep everything every professional with a separate phone line, business attire, and regular hours in a real office. To me the only difference was the office would be attached to my home. I set up the extra bedroom with all the necessary equipment, you know - the fax machine, telephone, computer, printer, file cabinet, and playpen.

The first day I woke early, popped out of bed, put on the coffee, threw some quiche in the oven and took a quick shower. Then I dressed in my favorite suit, threw on the make-up and dashed back to the kitchen before the buzzer went off on the oven and woke my toddler. I walked into my office with high hopes that the ads I had placed would pay off and I would be flooded with in-coming calls. The phone sat dormant on the desk while I filed paperwork and straightened my desk a dozen times. I figured I could get a lot done before Kiersten woke up. That lasted until I dropped a paperweight on my foot and I let out a blood-curdling scream. So, I moved on to plan B. I hopped on one foot down the hall, retrieved the baby, did the mommy thing and rushed back to the office with her bouncing on my hip. I wasn’t concerned. After all, I had a reputation for being on top of things. I could handle anything. I put Kiersten in the playpen, loaded her down with toys and finally plunked down in the swivel chair to begin my day. That’s when the phone rang. I smiled as I snatched the phone up.

“Hello?”

“Tammy? This is Tom Hutchins. I saw your ad and…”

Ha! A potential client. This was going to be easier than I’d hoped. I leaned back in my chair and swoosh…back I flew, landing head first into the playpen. I had forgotten to put the rest of the bolts in the backrest. My head smacked hard into the frame. I yelped and Kiersten began to wale in fear.

“Is that a baby?” Tom asked as if he just took a big swig of dill pickle juice.

I lurched to my feet and ran, blood dripping out into the hall.

“A baby?” I said as I thought wildly for a plausible explanation for a wailing sound in a professional setting. “That…uh…oh no. Ummm,” fake laugh here, “no, that’s just a police siren.” The phone went dead.

For the rest of the day I popped lollypops into Kiersten’s mouth to keep her content while with the other hand I held an ice pack on my head and typed with my feet. I let the voice mail pick up the phone calls, all two of them. I figured I could call them back when she took a nap. Of course, she refused to lie down.