Suburban Nightmares – Monologue (Karen)

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A monologue from the play by Dana Leslie Goldstein

KAREN (thirty)

Karen is a temp, and she is interviewing for a full-time job.

Yes, I know I’m overqualified. Story of my life. But actual­ly I’m not. Because, I – well, to be honest, you’ll appreciate honesty, won’t you? It’s the sad irony of my young – I’m thirty, I’m not too young – life that I’ve never actually held a real job.

Not because I couldn’t, but, well, you’ve got my resume in front of you. I don’t have to tell you what you already know. Do I have to tell you what you already know? Okay. Um. You can see, from what’s on the page, that I have obvious artistic poten­tial.

That’s why I haven’t really wanted to get tied down, com­mitted, you know, to one form of employment – until now, that is. Right. Okay, I’m going to be completely straight with you;

maybe not completely straight. I am an artist, (pause) That was a joke. Not a funny joke. Obviously. Sorry. You see, I want this job because… I’m about to do something crazy, something everyone tells you not to do.

I am about to be honest. I want this job because I need medical insurance. Not that there’s any­ thing wrong with me. I just, well, I turned thirty last month. I should probably stop taking chances.

Not that I take a lot of chances, generally. I’m very cautious. But not to the point of paralysis, obviously. I mean, a certain amount of risk-taking is essential to any well-lived life. Well-run office. Well-made garbage disposal.

Did I tell you that I’ve always wanted to work for a garbage disposal manufacturer? Really. Since I was a child. I was fascinated by the gnashing monstrous teeth in­ side the drain. That’s why I’d be such an asset to your … You aren’t buying this.

Look, obviously my skills are impeccable, cultivated over years of temp work, which is something I don’t intend to do forever. No, siree. Not that they haven’t treated me well at the temp agency.

They have. I’m a regular star among temps. A true find. I am the piece de resistance of temps! I type ninety words per minute. Ninety! Test me! I dare you! (pulling back) Okay, that was probably over the top.

This isn’t working out, is it? I’m obviously not ready to commit. Let’s just end this interview amicably, shall we? I’ll, uh, I’ll keep your card, if that’s all right, in case I… In case I change.

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