So I'm thinking all the stuff you think when you don't know where your next check is coming from. Where would I go, what poor relative would get stuck with me. What relative would I get stuck with. Would I have to go back to the snow??? I have two dogs and a parrot.
The parrot could take the cold about as well as I could. (The Lyme Disease destroyed my inner climate control. I can't even take a dip of 10 degrees ... 90 to 80 ... without severe joint pain that keeps me up at night.)
The threat of cold was the last straw. There was only one thing to do - go to Craigslist. OK, nothing under writing jobs. Nothing under web jobs. I would check retail. Yeah. I've sold furniture for Matter Brothers warehouse sales and I sort of enjoy the action; I do not, however, enjoy hours in the Florida heat running back and forth helping customers in a warehouse the size of an aircraft hangar. There have been times when I thought I would pass out face first on the concrete.
Sales would be OK but I didn't want to suffer. I enjoyed selling furniture because I like furniture. I would do a sales job - and be good at it - if it were a product I like. My existence is too hermity anyway. Need to polish those social skills again, learn to charm strangers instead of mumbling dumb stuff and staring at my magenta toenails.
Craigslist had retail! At the outlet mall within one mile of me! My car could break down and it wouldn't matter! Hooray!
And best of all there was an opening at the Crocs store! I was just in there last month. A few years back a very wealthy client was sloggin' around in ORANGE Crocs like he was hot stuff. It was a mystery. Why are Americans paying so much money for ugly plastic shoes made in China? The day I went in a charming saleswoman cautioned me - I could not leave the store until I had tried on a "toning" type sandal. I had already been to about five stores in the past month and couldn't find anything that felt good.
She was so cool, more like a friend than a salesperson, so I followed her advice. Omigod - floorgasm. And they were on sale. And they weren't ugly at all, black with a touch of turquoise. The nice little Crocs logo made it clear I wasn't wearing just any plastic shoes.
Since putting them on it has been hard to take them off ... except at bedtime when they would probably grab at the sheets as I thrash.
They're so comfortable I HAVE THEM ON NOW.
I am a believer. I could sell Crocs.
I responded to the ad, telling this story (except for the line about paying good money for ugly plastic shoes made in China). And the manager wrote back! And I thought she was just pleased by my story. But no, she asked for my resume. I wrote back that I'm a writer, not a salesperson - although I did sell for Matter Brothers and I did have my own antique shop back in Michigan.
For the next 24 hours I worried that she would call me. This job started at minimum wage and that was hardly worth my effort. Except it's better than no income at all.
Sure enough, she called and wanted to meet me. Then I was worried I'd get hired. At $7 an hour. So I showed up and I had that magical quality; I didn't care whether I got the job. I set foot ... wearing the infamous sandals, of course ... into the store and immediately went into shopping mode. I was dressed as if I were working there ... khaki pants, black top, black Crocs.
Damned if she wasn't charming and damned if we didn't hit it off. Damned if I didn't say I'd work (at a higher rate) and I'll be damned if she didn't accommodate me. If I got a big writing project and needed to adjust my schedule, that was fine with her.
Some of the things I imagined were better than I hoped. Apparently Europeans buy the hell out of these shoes because they're far more expensive across the pond. I LOVE Europeans - especially the Germans. This would be all the fun without having to go there.
I forgot you have to give references. I gave three, then I had to write them - clients of course - telling them what I was applying for. It's embarrassing. Humbling. Whatever, times are SO effing hard for most everyone.
I told my neighbor the unemployed respiratory therapist and she started applying to stores at the mall.
I called my mom. She knew I was getting panicked about work. She sounded relieved.
The manager promised to call me on Monday ... but she didn't. I went from worrying about whether I'd get the job to worrying I wouldn't. I need to stay here, God PLEASE don't send me back to the endless gray and cold of Michigan.
On Tuesday my mother called to see if I got the job. Nope. Giant "L" on my forehead, I can't even get a job selling shoes. I suck.
Wednesday morning I woke up completely stressed out. I actually stood up and prayed out loud to God asking Him to PLEASE let something good happen that day; within 15 minutes the phone rang.
It looks like it's going to work out just fine. I'll still have time to work on my book (which keeps me up until 4 a.m. some nights), I'll still have time for freelance and if something big hits, it can be worked out; although I've gotten used to working longer hours. I think I'm up for it.
My neighbor hasn't managed to land anything yet. She's afraid of losing her condo.
I'm feeling blessed.
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