Read Online What Would Oprah Do by Erin Emerson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Erin Emerson
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busy, just as much as I need to try to create my own Oprah- esque existence, I have found ways to do both. Kay said I should cook for myself as if I’m cooking for Oprah, with fresh healthy gourmet meals. Since I still can’t stomach extended time in my disaster kitchen, that will have to wait.
I have been accepted as a volunteer for the Golden Retriever Rescue Center, where I will be donating two hours of my time a day. It will be great to play with the dogs, and I can walk them for exercise. Thanks to the broken beer bottle I stepped on a year ago, I’m current on my tetanus shot and can start tomorrow. Since I don’t have a yard, I looked into the community garden options but the two nearby are filled with stinky frizzy haired people wearing Birkenstocks. It’s for the best since I found a better option in the online Want Ads. There’s a florist looking for a part-time delivery driver. This would put me in proximity to flowers, and in addition to albeit a minuscule income; wherever I go people will be happy to see me. I have an interview today at four. I should conserve funds by staying in, but I’m going to meet Jill afterwards.
When I got to the floral shop there was a small woman with dark hair pulled back standing behind the counter, sticking yellow roses into a cube of green Styrofoam. “Hi” I said, “my name is Cate Sanders.” She looked at me with no trace of recognition on her face. “I’m here for the interview.”
She grabbed some irises and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry I totally forgot you were coming. Nice to meet you. I’m Betty. I’m afraid we’re going to have to talk while I work on this arrangement. Ever since word got out that Reverend Walker passed, I’ve been slammed with orders.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about funeral flowers, and I didn’t want to say that I’d never heard of Reverend Walker since she said it like I should have.
“Tell me about your experience. Have you worked for a florist before?”
“No, but I love flowers.” She looked up at me, and I could tell that wasn’t the response she was looking for. “Um, I’ve been in marketing for the past twelve years, but I got laid off. I thought this would be a nice change.”
“So, you’re looking for something temporary?” Her eyebrows were pinched together so I knew that I still wasn’t making any progress.
“No, I mean, kind of. I don’t know what I want to do.” Realizing that I had started to slouch, I stood up straight and made an effort to keep my shoulders back. “Maybe I want to be a florist, and this would be a good place to start.”
I thought she was going to tell me to go ahead and let the door hit me on my way out, when she said, “How big is your truck?”
I figured I didn’t hear her correctly, so I asked “Truck?”
“Your truck, how big is it?” As I stared at her blankly, she said, “You want to deliver flowers and you don’t even have a truck, a van?”
“No. I guess I thought I would deliver them in my car.” She was looking at me like I was so stupid that it started to piss me off, “or that for eight dollars an hour, you would provide a vehicle.”
“Well you thought wrong.” She went back to her floral arrangement.
I stood there for a minute, until it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything else. My throat was so dry, I had to clear it just to say “Well thank you for your time .” without making a croaking noise. She didn’t even look up.
I got to my car, thoroughly pissed and ready to meet Jill for a drink or five. Before I could even light a cigarette, Betty was at my window. I rolled it down reluctantly, certain that if she commented on my BMW convertible being a ridiculous delivery car, I would go off on her. I was already yelling at her in my head, That’s right lady! I wasn’t just in marketing; I was a successful marketing executive! I’m not beneath delivering your stupid ass flowers, I should be above it!
“Listen, I’m really
I have been accepted as a volunteer for the Golden Retriever Rescue Center, where I will be donating two hours of my time a day. It will be great to play with the dogs, and I can walk them for exercise. Thanks to the broken beer bottle I stepped on a year ago, I’m current on my tetanus shot and can start tomorrow. Since I don’t have a yard, I looked into the community garden options but the two nearby are filled with stinky frizzy haired people wearing Birkenstocks. It’s for the best since I found a better option in the online Want Ads. There’s a florist looking for a part-time delivery driver. This would put me in proximity to flowers, and in addition to albeit a minuscule income; wherever I go people will be happy to see me. I have an interview today at four. I should conserve funds by staying in, but I’m going to meet Jill afterwards.
When I got to the floral shop there was a small woman with dark hair pulled back standing behind the counter, sticking yellow roses into a cube of green Styrofoam. “Hi” I said, “my name is Cate Sanders.” She looked at me with no trace of recognition on her face. “I’m here for the interview.”
She grabbed some irises and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry I totally forgot you were coming. Nice to meet you. I’m Betty. I’m afraid we’re going to have to talk while I work on this arrangement. Ever since word got out that Reverend Walker passed, I’ve been slammed with orders.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about funeral flowers, and I didn’t want to say that I’d never heard of Reverend Walker since she said it like I should have.
“Tell me about your experience. Have you worked for a florist before?”
“No, but I love flowers.” She looked up at me, and I could tell that wasn’t the response she was looking for. “Um, I’ve been in marketing for the past twelve years, but I got laid off. I thought this would be a nice change.”
“So, you’re looking for something temporary?” Her eyebrows were pinched together so I knew that I still wasn’t making any progress.
“No, I mean, kind of. I don’t know what I want to do.” Realizing that I had started to slouch, I stood up straight and made an effort to keep my shoulders back. “Maybe I want to be a florist, and this would be a good place to start.”
I thought she was going to tell me to go ahead and let the door hit me on my way out, when she said, “How big is your truck?”
I figured I didn’t hear her correctly, so I asked “Truck?”
“Your truck, how big is it?” As I stared at her blankly, she said, “You want to deliver flowers and you don’t even have a truck, a van?”
“No. I guess I thought I would deliver them in my car.” She was looking at me like I was so stupid that it started to piss me off, “or that for eight dollars an hour, you would provide a vehicle.”
“Well you thought wrong.” She went back to her floral arrangement.
I stood there for a minute, until it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything else. My throat was so dry, I had to clear it just to say “Well thank you for your time .” without making a croaking noise. She didn’t even look up.
I got to my car, thoroughly pissed and ready to meet Jill for a drink or five. Before I could even light a cigarette, Betty was at my window. I rolled it down reluctantly, certain that if she commented on my BMW convertible being a ridiculous delivery car, I would go off on her. I was already yelling at her in my head, That’s right lady! I wasn’t just in marketing; I was a successful marketing executive! I’m not beneath delivering your stupid ass flowers, I should be above it!
“Listen, I’m really
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