Opportunity Knocks Me Out

In my life, I've only held two jobs that I was willing to keep for more than the summer, or the winter. or whatever the appropriate season- shoeing horses and building picture frames. Not too long ago I was "laid off" as a frame builder, which story may very well become the subject of another blog. And, as the horseshoeing season has not officially begun, I find myself once again among the unlucky and unemployed. This would not be nearly as alarming if I were 21 and single. But, as I am married, and nearing my thirties, a decade of life that should be marked by the unfathomable possibilities of success, and the hopes of settling into a rhythm and career that would allow me the rock hard stability of a professional foundation, I am faced with the terrifying prospect of interviewing for jobs that I have as much training and experience in as a high school graduate.
As I am trained for little else, applying at Michaels for a picture framing position seemed like the next logical step. My application rose straight to the top of what was no doubt an enormous stack, disappointing hundreds of picture framing hopefuls. An interview was scheduled at my soonest convenience, and the manager bent over backwards to accommodate my every whim.
The interview was flawless- a study in professional communication. Rhoda, my interviewer praised me up and down for my years of experience and for my obvious need for no further training. I would be, in her words, "an incalculable asset to the store." Now full of myself, I determined that this job and I would be the perfect marriage. I had been honing my craft for years, learning the ins and outs of frame building and picture framing so that I might arrive at this place , under these circumstances- the union of the perfect job with the perfect employee. "We would like you to start right away," she said. "That would be great," I said. "It would be wonderful if you could work the morning schedule," she added. "That would be my preference as well," I returned. "We are prepared to start you at eight dollars an hour," she said "Tpbbbbpbbbpbbbtpbbbbbbbbpbbtpbbbb," I said. Actually, I never said that last part. It was merely the sound of me filling my pants with disappointment. So, this is what I was worth. The realization was sobering, to say the least. My years of experience and training, my knowledge and skills, my apparent value to company, had all brought me to this very depressing and sadly avoidable point-- the beginning.

Sincerely,
Thomas