Actually I don't think even my mom reads my blog. She's afraid of teh internets. Although I know she's read it at least once, I'm pretty sure my baby sister Katie showed it to her and I doubt she could find it again on her own. However Lisa not only reads it but bugs me about keeping up with it when I stop posting. She is a true friend, even if she did make fun of Rhode Island occasionally when we both lived there. So Lisa, this post's for you, baby!!
I believe I did mention at one point, that I was unemployed and basically a no 'count good-fer-nothin' when I started this blog and I couldn't comprehend how other people had blogs AND lives!!! Now I no longer have a social life, (which I directly relate to the following fact) but I -somewhat- unfortunately had to break down and get a job. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I've acquired ambition or anything- heavens, no! I often think nostalgically of the days when I could sleep in, then walk to the park, read, clean the house, and do craft projects all day and then go out to dinner with friends, feeling free to stay up late because, hey, it's not like I had to be up at any special time in the morning! But reality intruded, in the form of my bank account dwindling away to nothing and mah car and mah teeth letting me down in the same week. Fortunately the car turned out to be not-so-bad and the cavity alarm was the work of an evil, evil dental
But back to the topic at hand... which was... ah.. Oh, yes, job. I have one. Cuz' even if all yer teeth don't fall out, ya still gotta pay the rent.
I work here: Paper Source
Not at the web store though. At this brandy-new one: Santana Row and I hate to brag, but well, my store is totally the prettiest. In the website pictures anyway. So I know you're thinking, Hey Jess, what do you do at this awesome store? Management? Design? No, sillies! You're confusing me with someone successful! I am a sales associate. Yes that's right, a clerk.
I know, impressive. Try not to be jealous. After all it's true that I am making more than minimum wage, but it's not that much more, really. And I do get the privilege of paying for my own health insurance- oh wait, I was doing that already- and working nights and weekends.
I actually really really like the job. I've been a Paper Source devotee since I found the store in Wellesley and there are quite a few aspects of the job that appeal to me very much. I love working with paper and design, and helping people figure out how to complete their craft projects or wedding invitations. I love having co-workers, and adore the fact that mine are all wonderful, crafty, fun people. I can't be sad about the fact that I am paid to wrap gifts and make things look pretty. I love wrapping things in paper and putting beee-yootiful ribbons around them. But I feel like I should be doing something more... important or official. You know- like a real job. Like something that requires a college degree, or a title, or a suit and an office. Like a Grown-Up job. I'm thirty-two, for Pete's sake, shouldn't I feel more like an adult? (I've given up on looking like one- that's a whole 'nother post)
I talk half-heartedly about going back to school, but really, that requires drive and I just don't have
So, after ten years of being a professional nanny (a job that was only supposed to be a fill-in until I went back to school and which also made me feel like a less-than-adult when I was around people with what seemed more like real, live, grown-up jobs ) I am back to working at the bottom of the retail ladder, roughly the same position I occupied at my first job, when I was in high school. I suppose I could move into management at some point, if I wanted to. But I don't. Really, not at all. And I'm not sure there's anywhere else to go in the company, at least without moving to Chicago, where it's based. And I hear it's cold there in the winter. Cold me no like.
So I'm just drifting along for now trying not to think too hard about the future. But in the meantime, I am having fun. If you have a gift you need wrapped or some advice on bookbinding, come and see me at PS. I'll be the one standing on the counter or tormenting my co-workers with bad jokes.