Last month, There were several days when I decided to “cast my net far and wide” by applying to practically every business in sight. These included a clump of retail stores next door to our apartment complex, every coffee shop in town, anyplace in town that sold books or music, and H-E-B, a chain of grocery stores here in Texas. I thought with my years of experience in retail management, surely someone might want to hire me. If none of them did, then certainly H-E-B would give me a chance. My first job when I was sixteen was at a grocery store. If 16-year-old me could waltz in a snatch up a job, surely 22-year-old me had the same (hopefully better) odds.
Foolish thinking on my part. Apparently due to my combination of limited availability and my intimidating (cough) Bachelor’s Degree, my application was unceremoniously weeded out:
So, one quick form letter using my stuffy legal name meant my back-up job was no longer an option.
I was upset at first. It took a very stern lecture from Sam about the importance of counting my blessings for me to calm down. He’s right. We are so blessed. Sam has a great job that pays the rent on our beautiful apartment and allows us to splurge on a half gallon of Blue Bell ice cream every now and then. We have family and friends who are constantly supportive and encouraging. We have a cute (albeit spoiled) chinchilla who listens to my problems while I feed him pumpkin seeds. I currently have tons of free time allowing me to improve my cooking skills, exercise, and dedicate time to my blog to become a better writer. Just being able to be there to greet Sam after he’s had a long day teaching is a blessing in itself.
We aren’t in any way suffering.
You won’t see me scanning groceries anytime soon. I’m sure there will be a point in the near future when I’ll realize that’s a blessing, too.