I'm drinking my current favorite cheap wine (it stains your mouth blue!) and listening to Eric Clapton's Unplugged album. Glorious. Shortly I will be esconced in all the dumb games that accompany a youth lock-in at our church...not so tempting except that the youth leaders (our age) are wonderful and Marianne and I want them to be our friends.
I'm also in my "Desperate Housewife" ensemble...a printed blouse far too unbuttoned, a rolled-up kerchief holding back my (longer!) hair, and a pair of fitted jeans. Oh yes baby...I'm one hot not-yet-mama. :) (A couple of buttons will be finding their way back into their respective holes before the lock-in. Wouldn't do to get refused at the door.)
So today was relatively decent...Yesterday I send a resume to the South Bend Center for the Homeless; they're looking for a Teaching Assistant for small children ages 0 to 3 years. Which sounds perfect. This past summer working with toddlers at the daycare was the best summer of my life (except for that one summer when I was seven or eight...that summer was great. And the summer I met Dustin was great too) and I miss working with children so badly it's like a blow to the gut sometimes.
Anyway, the Center director called me today for a pre-interview sort of conversation. The woman actually in charge of hiring is out this week but will be in next, and he said when she looks over my resume, if she wants an interview, she'll give me a call.
I really want this job. (I'll still be applying for the Maryland job teaching high school down the hall from Hannah and Garrett.) But whatever happens, if I either get into grad school or get the Montrose job, I have at least till July or August to subsist independently of either income. And let's be honest, I'm not happy at my present jobs. Retail is okay, but I have never loved the business world. I much prefer working with people, undiluted by the underlying pressure to get their money.
Actually Marianne sat me down the other night (bless her) and said, "You're not happy. You don't have to stay in these jobs. I'll look over your resumes. Just do something."
And she's right; I haven't been happy. I've been miserable. Especially at Ann Taylor, there is a lot of pressure to rake in a certain amount of money each day, and if you don't make your sales goal, the District Manager notices and starts asking questions about why you're working so many hours when you're not productive. Never mind that no one who came in the store was in the mood to shop, or that you were working alongside some of the best saleswomen in the store that day, or that the weather was terrible and no one came into the store. Plus -- and get this, people -- I make eight bucks an hour. Eight. I make squat and they're expecting this huge commission-level performance -- only of course I'll never see a dime of what I earn for the company. It's halfway between some Fifth Avenue private shop and The Gap, where I'm told to be this fashion expert (and come on, Ann Taylor carries good, stylish, nice-quality clothes, but it's not Dolce and Gabbana for God's sake) who can outfit a woman for all her wardrobing needs, but behind the scenes I'm some prole who doesn't deserve a decent day's wage.
No thanks.
So I'm scouting. New job necessary. I don't even care if I make that much more (although it would be very very nice so I could do the occasional wild thing like go home every once in awhile); I just want to feel like what I'm doing has some meaningful contribution to the world. Not how many dollars did I bring in for some soulless company, but how deeply did I impact someone's life. Even if it's just that I taught a two-year-old to tie her shoes.
So (fingers crossed, lots of little prayers!!) I hope I hear back from this hiring woman for the Center for the Homeless next week. I would love to work with people again. And this job has health benefits.
Ha, little happy note of the day. I was helping a discouraged mother-of-a-five-month-old pick out a pretty yet professional outfit that would flatter in spite of her post-baby tummy while she tiredly told me about the difficulties of finding clothes. In sympathy I responded, "Yeah...that's tough; that's real tough" and her eleven-ish daughter -- great kid; friendly and eager to communicate and relatively self-assured yet sweet -- piped up and said, "But you're really skinny."
Great kid. (Granted, I've lost twenty pounds since moving, so I guess the comment had some merit, but still. It's nice to hear.)
4 comments:
Sarah, I'm curious: do you find that your Ann Taylor customers invite/appreciate/demand a lot of personalized service from you and your fellow fashion experts? - because, personally, I don't like it. When I go shopping, I like to take my time, browse, touch and feel, compare and contrast, carry things around while I ponder whether I really want them... basically I like to be left to my own devices. I get annoyed when an over-eager salesperson starts following me around trying to help me and/or make sure I'm not shoplifting.
Well, here's the thing (and it really deserves its own post, but that will have to wait). A third of our "clients" (as the company presumes to call our customers)are the Independent Shopper, people like you and me who aren't shopping for anything in particular and just want the fun and relaxation of browsing. Another third are geared toward specific needs, such as suits for a job interview or a conference, or a dress to attend a wedding, or a new wardrobe for a cruise (rough life). These are the people that are fun to help, because often they wander around the store looking resolute, desperate, or despairing, and it's great to appear at their side with a timely comment that turns a miserable chore into a successful treasure hunt. Many girls our age have never shopped for a good suit and don't know what to look for, what's professional, or what colors work best with their complexions.
The remaining third are the people who know us by name and are similarly known by us, our regulars who are on our phone lists and who come in to try new things on and chat. One woman brings us chocolate. These clients are a joy because you know them so well you can tell them right away what's new that they'll like and catch up on life while you're at it.
The first third is the toughest. Granted, I tend to identify the most with the Independent Shopper. With one exception. I hate being treated rudely. When I tell someone "hello" and smile at her, I'm not trying to weasle her money out of her protesting hands; I'm merely saying hello. I'm friendly like that, even if the company didn't set a greeting standard. When I'm browsing in a store and an associate greets me, I smile and respond civilly. If they then ask to help me find something, I politely, smilingly, and firmly tell them, "No thanks, I'm just looking." Usually this does the trick and keeps everyone happy.
Not that I'm accusing you of rudeness, Sonia dear, I'm just venting on a subject that has been very tender lately, as people have been wont to be grumpy and frost me over as if I have mannequin DNA instead of the good old, feeling, human variety.
Surprisingly, a lot of people do want to be helped. This is an Ann Taylor characteristic, from what I understand; the boutique aspiration I mentioned in the post. I freely state that if someone persisted in telling me about the clothes in, say, Old Navy or Express, I would be irritated. But a lot of people come to Ann Taylor for set purposes, and that's where we're good at helping.
Me, I like to leave the Independent Shoppers alone, unless they convert from Independent to Having a Question. I'm particularly inclined to leave them alone if they're nice about it.
A complete, informative, and well-informed answer; thank you. You're right, of course - a polite "No thanks" usually does the trick, and anyway, I don't even have it in me to be rude to perfect strangers when they deserve it (vestiges of what was once and sometimes still is painful shyness). I did get a salesperson last week who just wouldn't give it up. Even after I distinctly told her that I was just looking around, she persisted in hovering over me as I browsed through a stack of jeans, refolding whatever I discarded even before I was sure I wanted to discard it, asking me once if I were looking for a particular size, and on and on like that. After a while I decided I'd just as soon find a store where the sales staff would refrain from breathing down my neck, and left without buying anything. Hopefully she got the message, but I doubt it.
Ha. Yes. That is a true pain in the arse. Which store, I wonder? she was either up to her neck in sales goals that she couldn't make, or she was bored to death.
Still, inexcusable. Or perhaps she was just insanely annoying. :)
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