There have been some disasters. The days of Starbucks and Apple simultaneously were horrendous. Had I not had the thrill of new friendship with the thrilling Houston and Odwalla superfood drinks, I may not have made it out of those sixty hour work weeks, sane.
I tried Big Al's, a deli sort of health food establishment frequented by business patrons on their lunch break. I lasted a day.
I forgot my disdain and hatred for retail holiday madness, probably while resting on the other side of the ocean, and so dove back in, in the form of William Sonoma during the Christmas of 2008. I have a distaste for materialistic excess and the tendency to purchase things one doesn't need and will never, ever use just because it's "cute". I do not hate others for loving it, or doing it. I just don't like taking part. I had to drag my heels across the threshold of the oversized gold trimmed glass doors gating the overpriced and overestimated sanctuary of todays' kitchen divas and culinary artists. I am responsible, but my responsibility has its limits, and I didn't think I could continue with life if forced to finish out my seasonal commitment. I didn't work there in January, like planned, but instead made a case for baking: I was going to make the muffins and cupcakes, rather then selling the tins.
This second job took place at Great Harvest, the home of fresh milled flour, rising breads, and grain filled sweets. I was the sweets girl. The title was much more romantic than the position. I loved the baking part...the mixing, stirring and adding of eggs, but the setup was failed. I arrived around five-thirty some mornings, baked quickly, only to rush to the barista job by seven A.M. The scones somehow attained a soul, and had to be given more care and attention than most humans I am acquainted with. I was arriving at 5:30 every morning, so that they could be out of the oven by seven, and friends, this just wouldn't do.
I was living at my late great grandmother's house during the Great Harvest season. It was full and empty at the same time. It's walls were filled with years and years of history, a lifetime's accumulation, and also, me. I occupied a corner, and going home, to sleep in my corner, was quite lonely. The early mornings meant early nights of rest, void of people, which made me feel more like what a bear may feel like during hibernation. I knew I couldn't continue this simply for the sake of the scones; I didn't care enough to give them more attention than I gave to myself. I put in my notice, during the month of my birthday, and celebrated the decision to try my absolute darndest to not take a second job that takes life and, um, freshness out of me.
I write this today, after passing beneath a flock of fluttering birds on Bruiser, my bicycle, which carried me to perch here at Dwelling Spaces, my current second job, which also happens to be the freshest of them all. Throughout the course of today's afternoon I have been looking around to see signs of life outside the open door, to make sure what's happening is really actually happening. Tonia always reminded me of the father in Sabrina, who mentioned his motivation for employment...a job that allows him time to read. That's what I thought about at eleven, the time of day I arrived, when I sat my book down on the counter that is placed conveniently in front of my perch. I have watched people through the massive windows in front of me, read, sold a few gems made by local artists, chatted with friends and customers, felt the breeze coming through the open door, and marveled at the random bout of rain that came down on this otherwise sunny day. Mostly, though, I have just sat in thankfulness for where I currently find myself. I am also thankful for the duds, the positions of frustration and stress I previously held, because they led me to lessons that led me to the anti-dud stress free space I am currently dwelling.
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:)
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