All kinds of people come into my mom's shop, On-The-Block Auction, where I work on Wednesdays. They want to know if my mom can sell their stuff on eBay and get them some cash: young people, old people, having-a-midlife-crisis people. Poor people scraping together a few bucks to pay bills or buy food, lots of people who have lost their jobs and are selling their treasures, and uber wealthy people who have closets or houses full of thousand-dollar luggage and handbags they've used three times. People of all colors and ethnicities, and people from other countries who have made their homes here. Hustlers and honest folk, and you never can tell who's who at first glance.
The cameo appearances these people make in my life can be enervating, amusing, invigorating, or haunting. I learn so much about them in the few minutes that our lives intersect. Sometimes they pour their hearts out as soon as they walk in; sometimes all it takes is a genuine, "How ya doin'?" and the words just come tumbling out. My mom often cries. She's got a big heart. "They all get to me," she says in response to my comment about her feeling sorry for someone in particular.
Yesterday a beautiful, tall man about my age walks in with two boxes of comic books that he and his dad collected over many years. He's selling everything that doesn't fit in a suitcase and moving to New York to start a new life. "What's in New York?" I ask, making conversation while I look up his comics, trying to get him to flash his lovely smile. "I'm going to do music there." "Cool," I say, "I bet that's freeing." "I feel free," he says. But he doesn't smile. He's still getting used to it, the free feeling. I'm a little jealous, but mostly just happy for him.
An older, short, stout lady comes in and asks about her collection of ugly porcelain birds that her son's wife's parents gave her. She hates them and is ready to sell them for some cash because she just lost her job as a hiring assistant at Macy's. "I'm 72. Who's going to hire me to do anything?" We commiserate about lost jobs and discrimination in hiring. I tell her to look into working for nonprofits and give her a lead on a job board. I'm sad for her, but I don't think about it for very long. My empathy for those who have lost their jobs is great, but I have to put a stopper on the sadness, or it would be endless.
While I'm helping someone else, a very petite young man comes in to pick up his check. He's been in before. I smile at him and greet him, and he gives me a big happy look. He always seems to be in a fabulous mood when he comes in, all chatty and smiles. But he's got a little problem. He calls the shop too much, sometimes five times in five minutes. That's when I shut the ringers off. OCD, I think. "Is he worth it?" I ask my mom. He brings in piles of new designer clothes that he's never worn, so yes. "You've got to find out what he does for a living," I say, being nosy. She gets the story: laid off from his job as an accountant at Denver Public Schools. How did he afford $1,000 jackets? "Family money," we agree.
Eddie the hustler comes in to pick up his check, and he talks to mom for quite a while about a pair of Leica binoculars he's brought in that could sell for $500. His little brother is tagging along, learning the business. "What other options do we give those kids?" mom asks after they leave. "Hustling is much better than dealing drugs," I say. She nods her head in agreement, and we let the moment pass.
I finish the photographs of 17 more batches of vintage paper dolls that a guy brought in a few weeks ago. His mom died, and he brought in her lifetime collection of stuff to sell. It holds absolutely no sentimental value for him and wants it o-u-t of the house.
A day at the shop. We are sad and happy, open and guarded, forgiving and judgmental. We must be careful with our hearts and theirs.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Trying to Be Zen
My friend Emily suggested that I don't have to be thoughtful and profound every time I write in my blog, that it's really more about letting people see a little slice of your life. So I thought I'd write about a typical day, because this is like no other time in my life. I have no office to go to, so I've made myself as much of a routine as possible:
Get up. Brush my teeth. Put on my most comfortable but still acceptable for being seen outside clothes (hmmm... are jammie pants OK?). Feed the dog. Make coffee. Take the dog out. I'm not really thinking about a whole lot at this point, as you know if you've ever seen me before 9:00 in the morning. I was up until 1:00 AM last night catching up on emails and doing some work. I am not a morning person. I have tried. It doesn't work. I am flying high long after most of you go to bed, so try not to judge.
Power up the computer, which I have now set up to automatically start Firefox and Pandora. Only the music I like starts playing: jazz (real jazz, not the smooth, Kenny G kind), classical, blues, a little Jimi Hendrix. Nice. Now, pick a beautiful mug. Pour coffee. Sip coffee. Aaaaaaaaahhhh. Starting to feel awake. Tomas settles into his place with me on my office chair. He has no shame.
Check emails to see if anything urgent needs to be attended to. Good, no craziness this morning. Take my time slogging through morning emails. You know, the ones everyone sent two hours ago. I hope they weren't expecting a response before now. Take the dog out.
If it's Wednesday, I start thinking about packing my lunch and the dog's accoutrement to take to work at my mom's shop. On other days, I might have a morning appointment or teleconference to prepare for, but generally not before 10:00. Learned that lesson the hard way.
Make calls or send emails to stay in touch with my network or generate leads for new business. Write correspondence. Do research for interviews or networking meetings. I'm in the groove now, and I'm thinking about how much work I can get done today and what my priorities are.
Lindsey might come over so we can walk together. Throw the dog's Dino Cuz ball a few hundred times to try and keep his mind occupied (aforementioned walk most definitely does NOT wear him out, no matter how far we go). Take him out. Shower. Spend the afternoon doing project work for clients. Make notes about the follow-up I need to do from phone calls or meetings from yesterday or this morning.
Take time out to deal with emails, teleconferences, and phone calls for Smart-Girl, my volunteer gig. Plan my next outing with Consuelo, my mentee--my other volunteer gig.
Take the dog out. Fix dinner, usually something simple and healthy involving meat and a green vegetable. Look forward to spending a little decompression time with my sweetie. In the evening, run errands, or once in a while watch a movie (no TV for over a year now). Gary takes over the dog duties for the evening. Settle in for another few hours of work. Tomas gets comfortable on Gary's chair. Did I mention that he has no shame?
Think about who I can call for a favor so that I've got an edge against the other hundred qualified candidates who applied for that job. Figure out how I can generate new business. Apply for jobs. Process evening emails. Plan ways to improve the class I teach at DU. Bid G goodnight when he goes to bed at about 11:00. At 12:30 or 1:00, take take the dog out, read for a half hour, and hit the hay.
On the weekends, throw in a few hours of working in the garden, listing jewelry on Etsy, making jewelry if I can squeeze it in, chores, once in a while dinner with friends, and errands.
Minimize the negative thoughts, worry, and fear. Meditate on how much I love my friends and family, and how beautiful the world is. Listen to the birds. Watch my garden grow. Admire how the light changes as the day wears on.
This is my life. It's both more simple and more chaotic than ever before. I choose to be happy.
Get up. Brush my teeth. Put on my most comfortable but still acceptable for being seen outside clothes (hmmm... are jammie pants OK?). Feed the dog. Make coffee. Take the dog out. I'm not really thinking about a whole lot at this point, as you know if you've ever seen me before 9:00 in the morning. I was up until 1:00 AM last night catching up on emails and doing some work. I am not a morning person. I have tried. It doesn't work. I am flying high long after most of you go to bed, so try not to judge.
Power up the computer, which I have now set up to automatically start Firefox and Pandora. Only the music I like starts playing: jazz (real jazz, not the smooth, Kenny G kind), classical, blues, a little Jimi Hendrix. Nice. Now, pick a beautiful mug. Pour coffee. Sip coffee. Aaaaaaaaahhhh. Starting to feel awake. Tomas settles into his place with me on my office chair. He has no shame.
Check emails to see if anything urgent needs to be attended to. Good, no craziness this morning. Take my time slogging through morning emails. You know, the ones everyone sent two hours ago. I hope they weren't expecting a response before now. Take the dog out.
If it's Wednesday, I start thinking about packing my lunch and the dog's accoutrement to take to work at my mom's shop. On other days, I might have a morning appointment or teleconference to prepare for, but generally not before 10:00. Learned that lesson the hard way.
Make calls or send emails to stay in touch with my network or generate leads for new business. Write correspondence. Do research for interviews or networking meetings. I'm in the groove now, and I'm thinking about how much work I can get done today and what my priorities are.
Lindsey might come over so we can walk together. Throw the dog's Dino Cuz ball a few hundred times to try and keep his mind occupied (aforementioned walk most definitely does NOT wear him out, no matter how far we go). Take him out. Shower. Spend the afternoon doing project work for clients. Make notes about the follow-up I need to do from phone calls or meetings from yesterday or this morning.
Take time out to deal with emails, teleconferences, and phone calls for Smart-Girl, my volunteer gig. Plan my next outing with Consuelo, my mentee--my other volunteer gig.
Take the dog out. Fix dinner, usually something simple and healthy involving meat and a green vegetable. Look forward to spending a little decompression time with my sweetie. In the evening, run errands, or once in a while watch a movie (no TV for over a year now). Gary takes over the dog duties for the evening. Settle in for another few hours of work. Tomas gets comfortable on Gary's chair. Did I mention that he has no shame?
Think about who I can call for a favor so that I've got an edge against the other hundred qualified candidates who applied for that job. Figure out how I can generate new business. Apply for jobs. Process evening emails. Plan ways to improve the class I teach at DU. Bid G goodnight when he goes to bed at about 11:00. At 12:30 or 1:00, take take the dog out, read for a half hour, and hit the hay.
On the weekends, throw in a few hours of working in the garden, listing jewelry on Etsy, making jewelry if I can squeeze it in, chores, once in a while dinner with friends, and errands.
Minimize the negative thoughts, worry, and fear. Meditate on how much I love my friends and family, and how beautiful the world is. Listen to the birds. Watch my garden grow. Admire how the light changes as the day wears on.
This is my life. It's both more simple and more chaotic than ever before. I choose to be happy.
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