A woman named Emily renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office was asked to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job, or are you just a ..." "Of course I have a job," said Emily. "I'm a mother." "We don't list 'mother' as an occupation... 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder. One day I found myself in the same situation. The clerk was obviously a career woman, confident and possessed of a high sounding title. "What is your occupation?" she asked. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations." The clerk paused, ballpoint pen frozen in midair. I repeated the title slowly, then I stared with wonder as my statement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire. "Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "Just what you do in this field?" Coolly, without any trace of panic in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't), in the lab and in the field (normally I would have said indoors and out). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities (any mother care to disagree?), and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most careers and rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money." There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and showed me out. As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up   by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants---ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model (a 6 month old baby), in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt proud! I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable   to mankind than "just another mother." Motherhood...What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. How did the female clerk feel at first when the author told her occupation?
curious indifferent puzzled interested
Question: A woman named Emily renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office was asked to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the recorder, "do you have a job, or are you just a ..." "Of course I have a job," said Emily. "I'm a mother." "We don't list 'mother' as an occupation... 'housewife' covers it," said the recorder. One day I found myself in the same situation. The clerk was obviously a career woman, confident and possessed of a high sounding title. "What is your occupation?" she asked. The words simply popped out. "I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations." The clerk paused, ballpoint pen frozen in midair. I repeated the title slowly, then I stared with wonder as my statement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire. "Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "Just what you do in this field?" Coolly, without any trace of panic in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't), in the lab and in the field (normally I would have said indoors and out). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities (any mother care to disagree?), and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most careers and rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money." There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and showed me out. As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up   by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants---ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model (a 6 month old baby), in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt proud! I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable   to mankind than "just another mother." Motherhood...What a glorious career! Especially when there's a title on the door. How did the female clerk feel at first when the author told her occupation?
A. curious
B. indifferent
C. puzzled
D. interested
Answer: