Frieda Makes a New Friend

Frieda was having very different luck with the female half. Her first impulse was to go mingle with the women who seemed more her age. “So, I finally got hired. It’s just romance novels, but still, it’s a modeling job!” she overheard a girl declare. The circle of women remained closed while Frieda did her best to slip in. Finally, one woman turned to run to the bathroom. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. What do you do?” clucked one of the younger girls. Frieda was about to say that she worked for an environmental firm, but realized this might not be the best impression. Fortunately, someone answered for her. “Oh my, you must work for one of those outdoorsy magazines. You know, I’ve always wanted to appear in one of those. Are those clothes still from the shoot?” Frieda’s initial reaction was to be flattered, then offended, then unsure what the correct response was. She ducked away as the women went back to their clucking. Wandering over to the bar, she served herself from the giant bowl of red punch. An old woman approached from behind and offered Frieda a shot of gin from a flask she kept in her purse. “Well, you’re certainly not from around here. And please tell me you’re not a model,” the woman said. The old woman introduced herself as Sandra and took Frieda over to where a circle of much older wives were hiding behind the boat house. Some had cigarettes, others stiff drinks, but all seemed to having a good time. “Now the only thing about this Prop 415 business is that it can’t possibly last. We burn up all the oil and suddenly there’s no product left. That’s the damned thing about the oil business. We’re trying to consistently keep making money, not just make a lot all at once,” one of the oldest women chimed to the circle she was standing in. Frieda did a double-take. Did these old wives really already understand the problem with Prop 415? What if Hobart didn’t need to dose them at all? “This is great. I work for Dr. Ho-, Mr. Cuckler and he really wanted to pass the bill to make those filters mandatory. But I’m so amazed you all understand that it just doesn’t make any sense in the long term, no matter what your position,” Frieda said. The old women all turned and a few laughed. “Well, one can’t be a model forever. So you’re an environmentalist, I presume? All these big scary conservatives freaking you out?” asked one women. Frieda gave her best smile and shook her head. “Well, I’m all for stopping global warming. Can’t stand this goddamned heat. My husband makes all his money in the gun industry anyways,” Sandra piped up. A few women looked annoyed and turned to form their own circle. Their husbands incomes being slightly more precarious because of liberal meddling. “That’s the damn thing about vice. If you’re going to choose one, you simply must pick one you’re going to disapprove of as well,” said Sandra.