Working Girl
This past weekend, I did some work on my first freelance writing assignment in a month or so. I'm profiling two women entrepreneurs/business partners, and, at their suggestion, I spent some time observing them in action in their retail space on Saturday preceding our Sunday afternoon interview.
The first gig was pretty low-pressure. I understood that they get relatively heavy traffic through their store on the one or two days a month that they're open, so I figured I could just show up and do my thing without too much concern about presenting a certain image. OK, so I gave some thought to what I wore, but I guess what I'm getting at in a really roundabout way is that I wasn't worried about the state of my car.
I didn't give it a thought until I strode out to the garage 25 minutes before the Sunday interview was to begin and opened the back driver's side door to set my tote bag on the floor behind the driver's seat. It was then that I realized that: (1) I couldn't SEE the floor, and (2) there would be no other cars in the parking lot but theirs and mine, and, should I arrive after one of them but before the other, the latecomer might just be curious enough about me to take a little peek inside.
In the name of my professional image, I chose to take a minute to clean up a bit. Here's what I collected: a jack-o'-lantern trick-or-treat bucket (handy for stashing and carrying the rest of the detritus), two pink, formerly flying horses from McDonald's and their four detached wings, a slide whistle, a pair of black Mary Janes, a plush Pink Panther, several rocks collected from the post office and preschool landscaping beds, a very important, very wrinkled piece of pink paper brought home from Sunday school, the ubiquitous sippy cup, and a car trader magazine. Stuff, stuff, stuff went the items into the bucket. Wonder, wonder, wonder went my brain in marveling at how I had allowed all these treasures to land (and stay!) in the backseat of my car.
I don't think Daddy has this problem when he leaves for work in the morning.
The first gig was pretty low-pressure. I understood that they get relatively heavy traffic through their store on the one or two days a month that they're open, so I figured I could just show up and do my thing without too much concern about presenting a certain image. OK, so I gave some thought to what I wore, but I guess what I'm getting at in a really roundabout way is that I wasn't worried about the state of my car.
I didn't give it a thought until I strode out to the garage 25 minutes before the Sunday interview was to begin and opened the back driver's side door to set my tote bag on the floor behind the driver's seat. It was then that I realized that: (1) I couldn't SEE the floor, and (2) there would be no other cars in the parking lot but theirs and mine, and, should I arrive after one of them but before the other, the latecomer might just be curious enough about me to take a little peek inside.
In the name of my professional image, I chose to take a minute to clean up a bit. Here's what I collected: a jack-o'-lantern trick-or-treat bucket (handy for stashing and carrying the rest of the detritus), two pink, formerly flying horses from McDonald's and their four detached wings, a slide whistle, a pair of black Mary Janes, a plush Pink Panther, several rocks collected from the post office and preschool landscaping beds, a very important, very wrinkled piece of pink paper brought home from Sunday school, the ubiquitous sippy cup, and a car trader magazine. Stuff, stuff, stuff went the items into the bucket. Wonder, wonder, wonder went my brain in marveling at how I had allowed all these treasures to land (and stay!) in the backseat of my car.
I don't think Daddy has this problem when he leaves for work in the morning.
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 10:40 PM
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