While discovery, uncovering & some strange music playing over the speakers of life, I remained silent. I wondered if the muse had gone back to NM after experiencing Florida humidity. But it turns out she can get into the passenger seat, or actually drive our vehicle, but it’s simpler when the fit is good these days. She used to be so available in times of turmoil but I have gotten away from these – whether it’s the Hyland’s Calm I now carry instead of breath mints, or the ideas settling like sugar in the bottom of the cup for that last sweet sip, it’s a change for the better & a huge relief to psyche & physical.
I have found a job I can love & participate in to the betterment of all concerned.
I had decided on doing only something new – being a store stocker in a huge chain of expensive, gorgeous acquisitions, import buys & layouts by top interior decorators. I interviewed, was accepted, was then put into a maelstrom of orientation videos, still shots, ideas about how to work balers & large equipment (very carefully, it seems). I was made to try to get my Android phone to do iPhone activities & rolled eyes at when it just would not do that. I was tested beyond my age limits just to open boxes & stack stuff – my idea of simplicity in today’s complex hi-tek world.
Well, I’m not a shopper. The videos showed me oceans of merchandise I normally put my hands behind my back to see after securing my purse to neutral… the kind of stuff I shake my head at & say, “does someone really need this?” where price tags are oversize to accommodate the prices.
I have not had money enough or access either to any stores other than thrifts of recycle/reuse/redone or cobbles from Farmer’s Market crafters still beyond my budget. My last great buy was a faux-vinyl purse at the World’s Attic Store on half-off day. And I had anxiety about overspending then! I’m not on any social media – even Twitter which rejected me handily over a Trump comment has totally closed its anal sphincter to my handle – so I’m at level of country bumpkin in the city at this point of life & happy to watch paint dry on a cool day. (I have the feeling using the term ‘country bumpkin’ pretty much shows current status, yeh?)
So here I was, in a gorgeous store worthy of 5th Avenue New York, pristine & clean-smelling, thinking wowsa, kiddo, you’ve arrived. Then they brought me into the room where I’d be working: dim, crowded, unfinished warehouse space with a diesel-emitting truck chugging outside the portal, cardboard in layers beyond a monkey’s climb & an assault of what I call “stank” immediate & stomach-turning. “And THIS is where you’ll work!” they crowed as if ushering me onstage for America’s Got Talent. “O Lord, how will I ever?” was my immediate thought but I could not back up: management stood behind me gesturing grandly.
Once again divine grace came into play, a Tinkerbell of love not bothering with a doorbell, but coming right through the walls. I am offered & hired instead to a job for which I’d volunteered at my Unity: a part-time position paying more & with better hours, a space in an office overlooking a park campus (the spot the mailmen park to have a break for lunch & the Opera Guild choose to meet.) I was literally plucked from Dante’s Third Circle & given executive parking privileges outside pearled gates.
My new job does not involve razor blades, conveyor belts, standing on a rubber mat or STANK. It will be familiar, comfortable & a return to early confidence gained by competence & practice from many years of office environmental experience. It involves no social media, no passwords, one alarm system & ball point pens rather than huge carry carts of delicate porcelain. There are no gold-footed ceramic elephants to relocate, nor 8′ rolled rugs imported from countries with exotic germs & scary embedded creatures in the creases.
I need to find a Rolodex somewhere to simplify things even more. And those plastic sheets that hold business cards, a few 3-ring binders & maybe even bookends (for $11 at Staples). I need to dress business casual & wear a nametag & a smile rather than an apron…
What I need is to offer my joy up in thanks for the rescue & the wand-wave Tink popped up with to work this magic in my life.
Thank you to all the saints! Gone from Isaac Asimov to Maeve Binchy in a stroke!
That’s wonderful Carol, so happy for you
Lis, pls send me your personal email? I’d love to correspond a bit with you about all these changes. Do you still have mine? firstname.lastname@example.org