A woman, renewing her driver's license was asked to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is, do you have a job or are you just a ...?" "Of

 A woman, renewing her driver's license, was asked to state her occupation.

She hesitated, tapping her chin thoughtfully, uncertain how to classify herself.

"What I mean is," the clerk clarified with a polite smile, "do you have a job or are you just a...?"

The woman raised an eyebrow, leaned in with a smile that said, buckle up, and replied,
"Just a what, exactly? A superhero? A professional negotiator? An unpaid Uber driver, short-order cook, event planner, laundry technician, conflict resolution specialist, and snack distributor?"

The clerk blinked, unsure what box to tick.

"I’m a mom," she said, standing up straighter. "24/7, no vacation, no sick days, and I’m always on call. I manage time, emotions, and sometimes even intergalactic-level meltdowns over socks not feeling 'right'."

The clerk chuckled. “So… homemaker?”

She nodded. “Sure, if that’s what the system wants to call me. But just so you know, I also do taxes.”

The man behind her in line whispered, “I think she deserves hazard pay.”

She turned around. “Hazard pay? Please. I’ve navigated LEGOs in the dark. Barefoot. I deserve a medal.”

Everyone in the DMV line nodded in solemn respect.

She walked out with her new license in hand and a glint in her eye—headed back to the real battlefield... where silence means something is definitely wrong.