The End of Unemployment?

After being here only three weeks, I think I landed myself a job, ending my income hiatus.

I was applying to every posting in the local paper. Apparently, this is how small communities publicize their news. The days of Yelp and Craigslist are officially over, rest in peace bros. Anyway, I was resorting to newspaper delivery and cleaning service requests... and was becoming pretty discouraged since I wasn't getting many call backs. The few places where I'd been offered interviews were definitely looking for team members that could grow with the company, and I'm not sure how much growth I could offer them in seven months, but I sure tried to fake it.

The land line rings on Thursday at ten minutes to eight, in the morning! I'm snoozing away, and I assume that it's a solicitor at first. Heavy swallow, reach, and muster up the best "Good Morning" I can pull together. Surprise! It's the local cafe/bookstore, and they want me to come in for an interview. My first week in town I dropped of a magenta (printer was out of ink) resume with a post-it mentioning my experience in a cafe nine years ago but gave up when I hadn't heard from them. When can I come in to chat? Oh, any time before my 3:00 PM stats class. Much like sobering up when my friend of mine busted open his cranium at a frat party freshman year (no, I wasn't underage drinking, mom), I managed to instantly sound enthusiastic and awake, before hanging up the phone and falling back asleep.

Interview went well, as I intoxicated them with my charm and humor. The Minnesota connection is strong here in the valley, and a manager in the bookstore hails from the iron range. Best interview question I've ever received: "Now be honest, were you sleeping when I called?" Without missing a beat, I plead guilty, and he's impressed with my fraudulent abilities. Win.

Now the losses. For the benefit of both parties, they have a trial period with new employees. I'm not worried. My mad latte skills will come back quickly, no question. Over the weekend they're doing inventory, which will give me the opportunity to get to know the inedible goods. Sunday morning, they're well staffed, but Sunday 1 - 9 PM they could use my help. Ok, not interested enough in the Superbowl to pass up a paycheck since the Vikes threw away (literally) their ticket. And Monday? And Tuesday? Woah, this girl's got classes and skiing and a couple nonprofit commitments, too. But first impressions are everything, so I sign up. They emphasize that July is their busiest month (unexpected), forbidding any vacation. My favorite holiday kicks off that month and my uncle's wedding wraps it up... this job thing is starting to cramp my style. On one shoulder is a ski bum dancing and on the other is an apron-donned barista mopping (and moping).

Before vacating these premises in mid-August I have two other weddings, a Walla Walla wine reunion, a Montana meet-up, a New York absurdity, a Blue Devil Weekend, AND an Idaho camp out all in various stages of planning. My dreams of going to the Olympics already shattered (for the second time, the first was at the age of 16 when I realized that I couldn't even make the Junior Olympic alpine team), and my ability to host companions at Sage Haven becoming less attractive with shop hours 6 AM to 9 PM. I don't even ask what they pay. I don't even want to know.

Claiming the "Making Work Pay" deduction on my taxes today, the bitterness builds as I realize "Pay" is missing the lovely letter "L." It's so close, yet so far. Tomorrow marks my return to the working world. Perhaps I'll be able to log enough hours to get benefits so that I don't have to confront the slithering snake of an insurance company. Oops, I've fallen into the uninsured population. Hope I don't get hurt!