The All and Mighty Job Jar

I am back with another short story about yet another memory triggered by an ordinary activity. Yesterday, I got up and decided it was time to tackle the fridge, you know one of those jobs we all hate but have to get to from time to time. So, out comes the cooler to put all the food in while I am doing the necessary cleaning, the bucket of hot soapy water and sponges to wash, the bucket of hot vinegar water to rinse, the little stool to sit on because my back is not what it used to be and my knees are too wonky to crouch for too long. By the time I was set up I was already tired and daunted by the job ahead. I sat on the little stool for a minute and had another "Hit Pause and Rewind" moment.
This one took me back about fifteen years to the job jar. As a working Mum with too much to do and too little time I was often guilty of barking out orders to my daughter on my way out the door heading to the office. " Empty the dishwasher, Don't forget to make your bed, Set the table, I'll be home by five." You know the drill, I think all mothers are guilty of this from time to time. Then we arrive at the office, haven't even put our coffee cup down on our desk,and the BOSS barks, "Get me that report, Don't forget staff reviews are due yesterday, Where are the quarterly numbers" yada, yada, yada. Boy do I feel like a lump of poo by now and it isn't even 10AM. After one particularly difficult day I decided that I was going to be a kinder Mum and find a better way to get the stuff done around the house without coming off as an ogre.
Tada!!! The birth of the job jar. A simple concept really, instead of allowance we had a pay as you go chore list. Little bits of paper in a jar (colour coded of course) that said things like sweep the kitchen floor $1, dust the Livingroom (only I called it the Salon)$1, hoover the stairs $2, Clean out the hall cupboards $5, Clean the fridge $7 wow that was a big one. I would pay triple that now to have someone clean my fridge ha! ha! The simple little jar got a lot of attention the summer of '95 and I got a few things done each week without having to bark out the orders. I still did nag of course because I am a Mum and that is what Mums do. Everything went pretty smoothly for a while. I would tally the jobs done at the end of every week and pay up feeling pretty full of myself for having so easily pulled the wool over my impressionable teenage daughters eyes. Five dollars here, seven dollars there, until one day when I arrived home to a very tired girl, an empty job jar and a note leaning against it that said "Surprise Mum, You owe me $40" Just another ordinary day. Love and stuff Pam:} xxooxx