And . . . then . . . I clocked in again. Kroger took me back – I hadn’t been terminated out of the system yet — and Amanda squeezed out four shifts for me this week. Another casualty of my foolish haste: prematurely snapping a string of 12 weeks of at least 34 hours, which is necessary for health insurance. So I start over . . . again.
A great opportunity came and went. But that’s all. Painful, but the only injury fell on my ego, which will recover. No death sentence imposed. No kittens harmed. I write daily. I help my parents. The important stuff goes unchanged. Plus, Scripps has offered freelance work, so I can keep my hand in the game and reapply in a year.
Prom Week: A tall young man appeared at the floral department counter with a notecard bearing instructions: four or five white roses, blue ribbon. He paid for the corsage. Twenty minutes later, a woman came by to make sure her son executed her directions. She wasn’t satisfied, so she spent another $15 for add-on baubles. “Men!” she said.
Chewing the ends of her hoodie strings, a prom goer arrived with her mother and her date’s. She presented a glass bead that was an unholy shade of blue-green. “I want a flower to match this.” Nothing came close. She pouted. The mothers fretted. They settled on a white rose and a green ribbon. The sale took 30 minutes to close.
A father picked out some prom flowers for his son and his date. “They weren’t going to go at first,” Dad said. “They’re special-needs kids, and I think they were afraid of it. Then one of the clubs at Mason High raised money so they could go. Now they’re really excited,” and the father brought his hand to his eye to catch the tear.
Causes Anne Saker Supports
Freedom of thought.