Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Man, girl can't catch a break sometimes. I am the girl here. Girlish. Girl enough. Who brushed off her shopgirl-CV a la Clara Bow in order to try to get SOME sort of employment here in North Carolina. Today the bookstore where I applied at called to say I was hired - yay! - and then when I expressed some conflict over scheduling that I made clear in the interview, circling around said-book-I-am-on-deadline-for, they called back and said that they're offering the gig to someone else, because I obviously wasn't in the "spirit" of the position and couldn't give it my "all" if I had other responsibilities. I totally forgot what that was like. To be the supplicant in customer service. Because I realized I was supposed to probably be completely passive and smile and say yes. And I couldn't. I had issues. I expressed them. I guess I can't go back to being that girl again. The New York Times in some piece this weekend assured me lots of writers work in bookstores in New York - I would love to work at those places - but I can't I guess be a subaltern countergirl anymore in just any place. My dance card is bizarrely too full and yet I'm standing still in real space and time.