“I walked into the bowling alley…”
What did you do in THOSE shoes?
You will never believe this one or if you know me, you will, because this it just the type of happening that occurs in my life.
Winter is always slow with my business for the next few months until May. I have been contemplating on what type of job someone at my age, skill set and weight would be able to do. I thought about Staryucks and a whole storyline unfolded as to what my life would be like. My size would make everyone uncomfortable and cause everyone to eat once carrot stick and a cube of cheese everyday that I’m employed. The young workers would get frustrated and push me out of the way as I feebly try to learn how to use the register. I ended up being the solemn employee wiping down the cups and mugs in the lobby, restocking bags of coffee, mopping the floor after a customer throws their drink at a barista just to stage a TikTok video hoping it goes viral.
Or, when someone blows up the shops bathroom— spreads shit all over the walls, barfs in the sink and on the floor— ah, the days of hazing a new employee. They would also make fun of me for wearing the same pair of jeans to work each day because those are the only ones I have left that fit me.
I thought about applying at a local pizza shop with 4 “now hiring” yard signs sticking out of the devil strip. But my visions of people making fun of me and the body I am currently walking around in after taking their orders broke me. Since I work concession stands all Summer and have since I was 8, I know hard work. We make and sell pizza— I run out on site bakery/coffee-smoothie stand/ sell my jams and sell my UPcycled clothing. However, these people won’t care about my past— it’s what I’m capable in the now. I can handle the hot ovens, staying busy, making pizza, keeping things stocked— I know all that— but so do the people running those shops. Again, I’d be given menial tasks no one else wants. Mopping the floor. Cleaning the public restroom where people are purging their meals quietly after. Trash detail. Maybe, taking orders. So, I boxed and manifested myself out of that idea.
A good friend from my 20’s (1990’s) and his family run/own a music venue/bowling alley. From time to time, I make hats or print shirts for them. Just by the off-chance they might be hiring— I asked. A day later, he shoots me some options and I now have a job. Of course, every great story line has bowling alley mentioned in it somewhere—from Fred Flintstone to The Big Lebowski. So, you need bowling shoes to rent? I’m your go to girl. I start next week. I’m already ecstatic about the characters I’m going to meet and I know a good deal of people that already go there. There’s even a record store there that a fellow Twin Peaks fan runs. I consider this all a great blessing. I seriously didn’t know what I’d be able to do job wise— I haven’t had to do this since I’ve been working for myself. In some ways, I feel like I’ve given up on my dream—- but I know, things are slow right now. Everyone is recovering financially from Covid and the holidays. So, this magically place is my next venture. I have promised myself, no idle chatter about my life to anyone— to listen, and to have fun. To see where my help may be needed ahead of time— I’m good at that. After the job offer came through, I slept well. I envisioned the sounds— the yells of strikes— the laughter. I have been on my own so long, it will be nice to be in the company of others. I’m pretty excited!
Also— I’ve been in the cocoon writing something pretty good. I don’t even wanna start talking about how my sleep patterns have been. Woof.
Write soon! -Kerri 🎳📓 💻🍕🔮