You're kidding me, Julie mumbled to herself, as her husband pulled into Hank and Jenny's drive.

With winter on, club didn't do a whole lot.  So, Julie hadn't seen Jenny - which was just fine with her.  Oh well, was probably - hopefully - a quick stop; either way, she and Celia - she and her Husband's only child, so far - would wait in the truck.  The two men headed for the garage.   Though it was dark, Julie sensed something different about the place...something calmer.  From inside, a shadow crossed to the back door.  Jenny appeared, motioning Julie to come inside.

What the heck?  Julie pondered.  Something was very different ... pod people must have made off with her.   That thought confirmed, once inside.  The place was clean, not just shuddy-booty, but neat.  Jenny bent down to Celia's eye level.  "There's cookies!"  The little girl's eyes lit up, looking towards into the kitchen, where the treats, sat on a plate, by themselves, next to a vase of silk daisies, upon an otherwise, empty table.   "But ya godda ask your mommy first."   Julie nodded okay, "But just one, Celia."  The little girl, turned her head as she b-lined, "k mamma."

Jenny then reached into the frig...holy hannah, Julie exclaimed to herself, catching a glimpse of it's interior, that was even tidy.  Jenny pulled out a carton of milk, opened  cupboard, and retrieved a short glass and two tall ones.  She then, reached back in the frig for a pitcher of sweet tea.  

The two women exchanged small talk, but somewhere in the conversation, the deal changer became clear.  Jenny no longer worked at the call center, or any other grind. Jenny was Jenny.  She wasn't real good at navigating through bs, and so, of course, had been canned, more than once, for calling rubbish.  Though Julie, neither asked, nor pried, it appeared that Jenny had landed a job, she actually enjoyed. 

The office had about six or seven rooms.  It's location meant no traffic snags, no having to run out for something, because it was after 6am, and you ran out the door - leaving your lunch sitting on the kitchen table.  The address?  Hank and Jenny's home.  

The visit was brief, maybe about fifteen minutes.   The men returned into the house.  It didn't take a degree in Human Resources (Tools) to conclude, Hank liked his what his wife did for a living.  Their guests, graciously, booked on out of there.