position working in their PR department. That must be it.
I can’t keep from grinning because we have moved into comfortable territory. I am a highly adept negotiator, having honed my skills in the Beijing markets. When I was a teenager, my father took me on a few of his business trips to China. He would hand me a wad of yuan, and I would spend the day haggling for cashmere pashminas, bolts of shantung silk, and strands of pearls.
“I am intrigued,” I say, keeping my tone appropriately bland and leaning back in my chair. “What did you have in mind?”
“We believe you would be perfect as a community outreach educator.”
I knew it. They want me to do PR. They probably want me to let the community know about their good deeds by writing press releases. I can do that. It’s not fashion, but it would be something to do while I get my life back together.
Finn turns to face Rachel. “This might be a good time to show Ms. Moreau your presentation.”
“Of course.”
Rachel pulls a small remote out of her pocket and pushes a button. The overhead lights dim, and blinds lower from the ceiling to conceal the windows. She presses another button, and a laser picture of teenagers weaving palm fronds on a white sandy beach materializes on the far wall. It is the first picture in a slide show featuring smiling children in exotic locales around the world.
“Each One, Teach One is a non-profit organization that empowers the world’s poorest citizens to reach their full potential through vocational training and life mentoring,” Rachel says, her voice low and serious. “Each One, Teach One outreach workers have helped three point two million people around the world gain the skills necessary to lead them out of poverty….”
Rachel continues her impressive sales pitch for several minutes, matching her most salient points with powerful, striking images. Her presentation is so inspiring, I am mentally writing a generous check to Each One, Teach One.
“In 2015, we opened the Sitka Edification Center.” She presses the remote and a picture of a small coastal village nestled between two snowcapped mountains materializes on the far wall. “Sitka, as you may know, is a city located on Baranof Island, one of several islands that make up an archipelago off the coast of Alaska.”
She presses the button, and a picture of a rambling three-story log cabin, the night sky above strangely aglow with wavy green lights materializes. I catch my breath.
“Our Sitka center offers vocational training to the citizens of Baranof Island, particularly Native Alaskans.” Rachel presses the remote, raising the lights. “We would like to offer you a position as an educational outreach worker at our center in Sitka.”
Chapter 11
Working Knit
Text from Vivia Perpetua Grant:
Did you know R. H. Macy failed at seven business before finally making bank with his New York City department store? If Macy can do it, Moreau can, too!
“Sitka? This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke because nobody willingly moves to the middle of Nowhere, Alaska, except maybe hairy, toothless fisherman eager to risk their lives for a net full of stinky king crab.” Vivian gasps. “Ohmygod! Please tell me you didn’t audition to be on the Deadliest Catch.”
“What is—”
“The Deadliest Catch,” Vivian interrupts. “It’s an awful reality TV show on the Discovery Channel that follows a crew as they risk life and limb fishing for Alaskan king crab in the Bering Sea.”
The reality of my new anything-but-a-sitcom life is starting to sink in. I am moving to Sitka to teach natives about fashion design and sewing. Sitka. Alaska. I look around my modern posh apartment. What the fuck had I been thinking when I signed my name on the dotted line on a Each One, Teach One volunteer contract?
“Remember that non-profit organization I mentioned in my mission statement? Each One, Teach One?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I met with them today.” My
I can’t keep from grinning because we have moved into comfortable territory. I am a highly adept negotiator, having honed my skills in the Beijing markets. When I was a teenager, my father took me on a few of his business trips to China. He would hand me a wad of yuan, and I would spend the day haggling for cashmere pashminas, bolts of shantung silk, and strands of pearls.
“I am intrigued,” I say, keeping my tone appropriately bland and leaning back in my chair. “What did you have in mind?”
“We believe you would be perfect as a community outreach educator.”
I knew it. They want me to do PR. They probably want me to let the community know about their good deeds by writing press releases. I can do that. It’s not fashion, but it would be something to do while I get my life back together.
Finn turns to face Rachel. “This might be a good time to show Ms. Moreau your presentation.”
“Of course.”
Rachel pulls a small remote out of her pocket and pushes a button. The overhead lights dim, and blinds lower from the ceiling to conceal the windows. She presses another button, and a laser picture of teenagers weaving palm fronds on a white sandy beach materializes on the far wall. It is the first picture in a slide show featuring smiling children in exotic locales around the world.
“Each One, Teach One is a non-profit organization that empowers the world’s poorest citizens to reach their full potential through vocational training and life mentoring,” Rachel says, her voice low and serious. “Each One, Teach One outreach workers have helped three point two million people around the world gain the skills necessary to lead them out of poverty….”
Rachel continues her impressive sales pitch for several minutes, matching her most salient points with powerful, striking images. Her presentation is so inspiring, I am mentally writing a generous check to Each One, Teach One.
“In 2015, we opened the Sitka Edification Center.” She presses the remote and a picture of a small coastal village nestled between two snowcapped mountains materializes on the far wall. “Sitka, as you may know, is a city located on Baranof Island, one of several islands that make up an archipelago off the coast of Alaska.”
She presses the button, and a picture of a rambling three-story log cabin, the night sky above strangely aglow with wavy green lights materializes. I catch my breath.
“Our Sitka center offers vocational training to the citizens of Baranof Island, particularly Native Alaskans.” Rachel presses the remote, raising the lights. “We would like to offer you a position as an educational outreach worker at our center in Sitka.”
Chapter 11
Working Knit
Text from Vivia Perpetua Grant:
Did you know R. H. Macy failed at seven business before finally making bank with his New York City department store? If Macy can do it, Moreau can, too!
“Sitka? This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke because nobody willingly moves to the middle of Nowhere, Alaska, except maybe hairy, toothless fisherman eager to risk their lives for a net full of stinky king crab.” Vivian gasps. “Ohmygod! Please tell me you didn’t audition to be on the Deadliest Catch.”
“What is—”
“The Deadliest Catch,” Vivian interrupts. “It’s an awful reality TV show on the Discovery Channel that follows a crew as they risk life and limb fishing for Alaskan king crab in the Bering Sea.”
The reality of my new anything-but-a-sitcom life is starting to sink in. I am moving to Sitka to teach natives about fashion design and sewing. Sitka. Alaska. I look around my modern posh apartment. What the fuck had I been thinking when I signed my name on the dotted line on a Each One, Teach One volunteer contract?
“Remember that non-profit organization I mentioned in my mission statement? Each One, Teach One?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I met with them today.” My
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