I really have been dreading writing lately. It always felt like it could be my last time writing anything so then you put insane pressure on yourself to write something important, or at least something worth being remembered by. Of course I am VERY eloquent in my head, very smart, very everything you would want to be known by and for--but ultimately I am a klutz of a person who has met too many people and probably been forgotten by even more. Woe is me, right? Not really, some people are better being forgotten and forgotten by.
I know I've mentioned the ENTIRE point we left Colorado is because I needed health insurance and Don had finished his contact in May, the same month I was told my valve was going south and needed a redo. I mean, yeah, this surgeon's been telling me a long time I needed the redo, but I am stubborn and I've done enough of that, and really, he had been telling me that long enough it seemed a little crazy every time to entertain the idea I might die again. So the most recent guy--the guy we moved towards, the rockstar surgeon I ...
So, I didn't get the thing. The job, the position. It was working for Chanel, and really, how fancy is this ass to work for a real designer? Not fancy enough, I'm afraid. Yeah, yeah, it wasn't really working FOR the designers at Chanel, but simply a brand ambassador. You know, the person who is able to whip out the Chanel facts, and sell you their story along with some sunglasses and direct you on how to buy $7k purses. I was ready, I studied a lot even though I wasn't sure I was going to get it. The longer I waited, the more sure I was that I might not.
I still think I would have been good at it. I give incredibly good phone. I always have, and hopefully always will. BUT, it apparently wasn't meant to be. I was supposed to know by Monday. Monday came and went, and that bill I had for the last echo, a total of $46 after insurance did their thing, but that bill I was sitting on because I just had this feeling. This feeling that once I did pay it, they would be calling me for the follow-up. ...
I tried to apply for a job the other day and I am thinking I might finally be at the age where you cut your experience off a decade or so ago because anything longer than that kind of ages you past malleability. Clearly I am not a rigid stuck-in-her-ways kind of thing, as I have had to reinvent myself more times than most people. My skillsets in dealing with the public are pretty well-rounded, and if I look back through the history of my employment--it includes customer service positions at: banks, medical offices, retail corporate offices, doctor service sites, internet hosting companies, car dealerships, spa companies, gyms, delis, fast casual food, massage companies and travel companies.
I suppose even my restaurant customer service (bartender & waitress) has qualified me all over the gamut as well with sports bars, high end restaurants, casual restaurants, neighborhood restaurants, fireman bars and even fetish bars in the mix. I am not sure what this really leaves me with but a talent with people from all and I mean every walk of life. I am someone who has served the poor as well as celebrities in my customer service and sales existence ...
