Marcia at the Museum
It certainly wasn’t my first choice when it came to employment, but, hey, it’s better than my last job working in a closet-style room with a headset saying, “May I have your order? Do you want fries with that? Your total is $7.39 at the next window.”
At least I get to move around. When I got my first paycheck, I invested in a new pair of support hose and what I call “nun shoes.” Not exactly stylin,’ but my feet love ‘em.
My typical routine might sound boring to some people, but it’s better than sitting at a desk. Yeah, the only time I sit at all during the day is on my breaks. Every fifteen minutes, we change posts. Moving to different rooms gives me different “stuff” to look at. Of course, I’m supposed to be looking at the people looking at the art, but I can quickly size up folks strolling from picture to picture.
Who comes to museums nowadays? Mostly white folks, a lot of older women in pairs. Some new age hippies come in. They’re the ones most likely to be pushing a stroller and have another kid with them. In my opinion, it’s a waste of time to bring kids between age two and ten to a place where 1. They’re supposed to be quiet, 2. Most of the art is above eye level and/or of no interest to them. Think, people! Take them to the Lego museum or the Children’s Museum down the street. (cont.)