Saturday, October 24, 2009

Break it to me gently - The End

Part IV

After four interviews and spending $25 at Fed-Ex Kinko's, putting together a killer proposal, day dreaming for two and a half months, mentally putting together sales proposals for partnership solicitation for the children's center, making a list of the organizations I would join and the publications I would subscribe to, putting together my resignation letter to HeatherBeThyName and visualizing her begging me to stay ...after asking my Mother to have her prayer circle pray for me(!) and even taking a talisman with me the last two meeting. After having three "off the record" interview encounters at the Biscuit Bucket...I did not get the job.

Because it would not be doing me a favour to offer me a position when I had minimal exposure to managing a Mall. The learning curve is too large, too something or another (I was zoned out at this time realizing I was OUT) and would I consider taking the Assistant job.

Certainly. I had also contemplated this offer. It had to pay better than slightly above minimum wage at less than 30 hours a week.

I could be Robin to her Batman.

I should have realized that I was too - overqualified - for the second banana job. Under experienced for the first, too much for the second.

But, in some half assed way they offered it to me. That was last week. Last Monday. Almost two weeks ago. I had to "interview" with the girl/woman they gave the job to to make certain we jelled. ("The temp we have really wants the job and I told her to go back to school! That she would have plenty of opportunities in time.")She was to email him and let him know we hit it off okay.

Still, nothing from him.

I call - "I've been out of town, as you know, and have your paperwork her in front of me. I will get it together and hand it over to HR by tomorrow or the next day."

"OK, I will not panic until Wednesday after noon."

He laughs.

It's Saturday afternoon and I have not heard from them. Hope evaporates and I have not ever known the depths of depression and frustration as I feel now. Calling him again is out of the question.

It feels like ashes in my mouth. I never knew what that meant before, but I feel like I have ashes in my mouth.

What a terrible place this is to be. Maybe they will call. I feel like the teenage girl sitting by the telephone waiting for the call that never comes.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Break it to me Gently - Part III

Today I was called into the back of the office - again - and told that one of the area VP's, the head bitch of the Retail Department in this area, had entered our Biscuit Bucket and "observed". One of the things she "observed" was that when I came out of the bathroom and squirted some hand lotion onto my raw chemically seared hands, I just sashayed off and did not "greet" her and Great Heaven to Betsy, did not try and sell her any hand lotion.

"Don't freak out" my Amazon manager told me, "But later she stated that she saw you again in the "clearance" area and once again you did not greet her or acknowledge her in any way."

"Great!" I thought to myself, "I'm going to get canned from the dag gone Biscuit Bucket."

Truth of the matter is I was selling my ass off all morning! I had it going with this particular display, which was 40% off. Anyone came near that display, I was on them and showing them "my favorite" thing, a basket that is the perfect size to put in a pie or a casserole dish. Dazzle everyone at those family gatherings or pot lucks!

Feature and benefit, baby. I sold about eight of them. I only had about two people who could resist me!

I had it going yesterday too. I sold the Hell out of our Halloween merchandise. No one could resist my powers yesterday. And today.

I am a selling machine.

But...always the big BUT....I can not do it for six straight hours. It's torture. People every where, blocking the aisles, lugging along babies in carriers, some people pissed off because the wait is 35 to 40 minutes, talking on cell phones, giving you the "I don't respond to sales people" cold stare as they brush by you ...

....(and I hum the Rolling Stones song in my head at these moments...

Who would believe you were a beauty indeed
When the days get shorter and the nights get long
Lie awake when the rain comes
Nobody will know, when you're old
When you're old, nobody will know
that you was a beauty, a sweet sweet beauty
A sweet sweet booty, but stone stone cold) ..........

Because 9.9999 out of 10 they are a young woman who sneers at you.

Because I do not talk to everybody. I just can not. Will not. I do not have the emotional energy.

Anyway. This comes after another set back last week when another VP came into the store (are they any other Biscuit Buckets in the area!!) and was not "greeted" for 30 minutes. The manager on duty took me aside that day and began his spiel to me, "You have great potential........." The kiss of death when someone begins a "pep talk" that way.

Man, Retail sales is not Rocket science! It's harder!

(P.S. we have been breaking sales records and setting new ones for the area. You'd think they would have something positive to say, wouldn't you?)

Thursday, October 08, 2009

Break it to me gently - Part II

I dragged out the two containers of coffee I use every morning to make my one pot of the delicious nectar of life and discovered I barely had enough to last the week.

Running out of coffee is not something that is easily remedied. I do not run to the local Walmart, Kroger or even ALDI to pick up a new pound of freshly ground. No, I must plan my escape - I mean my trip to Nashville to visit Trader Joe and grab another canister of New Mexico Pinon Coffee which is only the best coffee ever!

I practically smile all day long knowing that not only will I grab some fine coffee, but I will also grab some Cranberry Oatmeal cookies. Yum Yum.

I'm showered and out of the house before 9am. I am in Trader Joe an hour later and happily munching cookies ten minutes after that wondering what to do with myself now - the whole town at my beck and call.

I make a run to the farmers market and find a 44 ounce jar of Wildflower honey made in Tennessee. I am a honey convert. A fine supplement to the sweet nectar of life is the sticky nectar of life.

After that I ponder my options and decide to find the Goodwill. I wander around town quite a bit, finding the hole in the ground where it use to be and a large sign telling me where it now resides. So I head off in that direction and after a couple of erroneous starts and backtracks I find the Mack Daddy of Goodwill stores all but hidden in a maze of back streets, clearly visible from the expressway, but difficult to maneuver.

As I stand in front the wall of hard back books I know all the trouble has been worth it! I begin on the left and work my way to the right.

I find treasure right off the bat. A first edition of an American translation.

Two rows down another find, 1st edition of The Fabric of Memory by an Eleanor Robson Belmont. I have not a clue who she is, but it was published in 1959, the book is pristine and the pictures reveal a magnificent woman in old turn of the century garb. I realize she is the Belmont of The Belmont race track. Yes indeed!

I find a lot of 1st editions and my arm becomes strained trying to hold them as I continue to read through the titles. I decide to park them on an end table positioned behind me. I keep my eye on them as I feel another person begin to study the books to my left, going through the titles just as I was doing.

I pull out a cook book or two and set it on my pile becoming more and more wary of the guy next to me with his long yellowish white hair, pulled back in a foot long pony tale. Obviously well dressed in pressed jeans and a corduroy jacket. "A dealer?" I think to myself.

As he gives up his search he walks behind me and toward the doors. He leans sideways and reads the titles I have set aside.

"Do you like John Updike?" he asks me.

I hesitate a moment and then say, "Sure, I like him."

He returns to the book case, pulls a book that I have already passed and hands it to me.

Rabbit at Rest.

"I see you enjoy good literature" he says, bows slightly and walks away.

As is my habit these days, I flip it open and look at the copyright page.

A first edition. Unread, perfect condition.

I place it on my pile and turn to repeat the thank you. He has vanished.

I was stunned when I researched the value of that book.

All because I needed coffee.

Break it to me gently - Part 1

I think no one cares why I don't write anymore. Yet when I come across the thoughts from someone else concerning why they no longer write (blog/journal on line) I find myself reading it, no devouring it with an obsessive curiosity. I try and find the similarities between us and usually they are there.

I miss writing down the hum-drum threads that make up the drama's of my life. I do not live with high expectations that I will ever be among the lucky ones discovered in the Blogosphere. Not now, not with the millions and millions of bloggers out here. Maybe when I started, over six years ago, it might have been possible. Maybe if I had not hitched my wagon to AOL...??

Anyway, I will never get my book deal.

I am a little fish in a big pond that gets bigger every single day. Just yesterday I was browsing and killing time at Borders and saw a book about Tweeter. Tweeter for God's sake! Blog creates writers who become celebrities, as does You Tube and I suspect Tweeter is not far behind.

So, I concede. I will ramble on about the boring aspects of my boring life and years from now when I am wondering what I was doing the first of October 2009 all I have to do is flip over here and....there I am.