I started my new journey in life, and picked up for the likelihood of a more enjoyable lifestyle in Portland, OR as opposed to Leesburg, FL. Leesburg was an ok place to live in Florida, as long as you were accustomed to the bigotry of the state riddled with rednecks, but I was made to be something more and live somewhere much more hip than that shithole. I put in my 3 and a half week notice to my job, and set sail cross country with my Budget moving truck for greener pastures.
As a responsible adult, I started my job search right away. To be honest, I had been searching for months, but no one would take me seriously until I had an actual Portland address. So I got an apartment, and planned several interviews for the day after I got there.
I went to interview for 2 jobs after arriving. It really stroked their ego when I would say, "I drove across the country all last week to make it here to meet you". I have worked government jobs the past 12 years, so it put out a sense of saying, "I appreciate you!". You know us government workers feel so disenfranchised. It appeared I had the job, but these government jobs always take 4-6 weeks to go through the hiring process. They liked to see you sweat a little.
In the mean time, I didn't have any real ideas for income, nor was I putting any effort into finding a job until this one came through. I decided to stroll The Portland Market to eat up time, and found myself meandering away from the market and towards Powell's City of Books. After spending an obnoxious amount of time in there and only spending $7.95 on a used book (Valley of the Dolls, I know! Great pick!), I walked towards a thrift store called Buffalo Exchange.
As I entered the store, I saw there was a sign stating, "Hiring Part Time, Starting at $10.25/ hr". I thought to myself, damn. When I worked in retail back in 2002 for a measly 6 months at Ross Stores, I made $8.00/hr. This seemed like pretty good pay for a thrift store. I had never been in it, so I took a look around. It was similar to Plato's Closet, a franchise of "ultra-hip" stores in Florida where you sold your old clothing to the shop to resell, so I knew the routine. Normally though, Plato's Closet wouldn't take stuff if it wasn't laundered. I picked up a pair of shoes and the bottom had old, crusted dog shit on them, with a price tag that read $35.00. I thought to myself, kids these days are morons if they are buying shit covered shoes for the same price as them new at the JC Penney, but I'm hitting 33 fairly quickly, what do I know about kids these days. I decided, this place has a pretty good racket going on, I think I will apply. I thought they would appreciate that someone who wasn't going to steal the merchandise was applying, based on my age and resume.
It took me about 20 minutes to fill this application out with a pen. I haven't filled out an application by hand in 15 years. It was silly, and I must admit I snickered a few times filling it out. I was directed to talk to the manager on duty, so I politely waited for her as she completed a "buy" of someone's used clothing. After she was finished, she smiled warmly and said she was ready to review my application.
She appeared at least 10 years younger than me, and read over my detailed application. It was far too detailed, but I didn't want to leave out any of my highlights I include on my resume.
She says to me, "you just moved here?" I replied that I had.
As she continued to read the application, I saved her the aggravation, and went ahead and reported, "I normally work child welfare jobs, as you can see on the application, but since I just moved here, I thought it would be a good idea to get a job for now until I can figure out your programs here in Portland". I was just saying what I thought she wanted to hear, trying to get her to just say, ok! You can start tomorrow! But that didn't happen. This is when the real interview commenced.
She asked, "Why do you want to work here for Buffalo Exchange?" I'm not sure where on earth that would be a fair question. It was a pretty crummy thrift store, and I don't think anyone really aspired to work there. She was setting me up for failure.
"I love to help people, and work great with diverse populations. I know how to jump in and help in any situation, whether it be easy, or more challenging". This is an answer I have given at all my government positions, and it was always the status quo answer, but not today.
She replied, "oh, uh, uh huh". Fuck, not a good answer. So she tried another question to see if she could get some better answers.
"Is this the first time you have been in our store?"
"Yes, but I have frequented several similar in Florida".
Then she continues, "Where do you normally shop for your clothing?"
By the hipster feel of this place, Kohl's was not going to be the right answer. But what was the right answer? If I said names of stores in Florida, would she even know them? So I tried the first thing that popped in my head, "discount stores and thrift stores similar to yours. Have you heard of Plato's Closet?" She wasn't even impressed. Finally, the last question came.
"What tips and tricks do you have to stay up to date on styles and trends?" I just stared at her. Stay up to date on styles?! I'm 32 and my prior career has been office chic. I don't care about what's in style anymore, I'm too fucking old! I didn't know what to say. I thought quickly and blurted out an answer. This answer, I am not proud of, and really ruined all chances of me being hired.
"Apps and stuff" I replied.
"Uh, apps?" She repeated.
"Yeah, I have this cool app called wish, where you can buy clothes super cheap in China".
"Oh, well......." she continues, "We have all the managers look at your application, then make a decision to hire you. So we will call you if you get the job. Thanks!"
I was so let down. How could I not get this job? It's selling used stuff for fucks sake! I really beat myself up the next few days until I spoke with a friend and told her of my experience. She couldn't stop laughing, "apps and stuff". The interview experience brought me to a place where now I can comfortably say stuff like, "kids these days....." I am getting old whether I like it or not, and the 21 year old manager at The Buffalo Exchange wanted to make that clear to me on that day.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
If you enjoyed my little slice of paradise, please bump that writing, resteem, tell your grandma, ANYTHING! You can even comment on my happenings, it can’t get any worse.