You can blame this article on my half bath which looks decidedly shabby even in the best light.
Armed with the determination of a Roman soldier, and a vision, I went to a local store for paint and wallpaper. I had in mind something positively retro with a bit of a modern twist. After paging the books of samples and comparing color to pattern, a salesperson approached with a "can I help you smile." Very lovely and most welcome.
I asked about current trends in decorating and she was very free with her observations. Dropping names and locations of homes...well, to be correct, not full disclosure of the aforementioned clients, but still....some people are familiar.
I saw an article blooming along with the cabbage roses, [which are still popular for wallcovering] and I asked her if I might quote her in The Patch. It gets a bit tiresome there as I had to explain where and what I write and then how to access the site.
She asked for my badge or photo ID.
I don't have one, but, I do have a pen and a notebook. I was at that point, a little less hopeful about being able to firmly quote a person by name. I switched instead, and asked to just name the business, which brought out the information that she is 'only part time' and maybe I should speak to the owner. Oh dear, the window of information was getting ever narrower.
I just ended by firmly assuring her that I would ONLY write non-identifying information and use great politeness.
On the way home, I reflected on an experience from my youth, and really did understand the whole identity crisis.
Barely out of my teens, I was working [part time] for a charity sponsored thrift store. Since this is my story and the whole incident is in the far past, I am sure every person is either deceased or near to.
Anyways, this store slightly benefited the blind population in donation percentage. I loved working there, really. It was uplifting in so many ways, especially in the fact that I could afford to eat rather than starve. But, on this particular day, a news crew blustered through the front door. I had absolutely no warning and at that time lights and cameras were not small and inconspicuous. I had a microphone shoved at me and I was asked the fateful question, by a very pushy person, "How many blind people are employed at this store?"
What a very silly question. I was a very plucky girl and put my foot right in it.
"Well now," I said, "We have one blind cashier, two blind ladies in the back that price our items, and a blind truck driver."
Oh boy, can you see what happened shortly thereafter?
There I was, on tv....seen by people, acting like, what I was. A mere slip of a girl, working for a slight wage, no thought to who I was talking to or that anything I said could be taken in the slightest bit seriously.
I was sacked, let go immediately, and that is the end of the story.
Did you know that pastel stripes with metallics are on the upswing in the nicest places?
You do now. :>
I blog. Which pretty much means, that I write about anything that captures my interest and I try very hard to entertain my audience. I am not available for stand up comedy, no matter how much I am paid.