Ding Letter

Ding Letter

Three and a half weeks ago, I applied for a job.  Please pick your jaws up off the floor.  After being out of the job market for 16 years, this was a huge step.  I have loved being a stay-at-home mom, but it was time to do something for me.  I love shopping and one of my favorite haunts is a department store discount spinoff, heretofore referred to as The Shack.  Since I love to shop at The Shack, I would love shopping there even more using my employee discount.  It would be like getting paid to shop!  Winning!  This would probably end up being a break-even venture, but at least I'd be a productive member of society again.  On this momentous day of "going back to work" I cheerfully walked in to The Shack and asked a very competent cashier if I could have an application please.  She politely informed me that I would need to apply online and wished me good luck.  Thank you!  I'm really on my way now!  I've got so much accomplished!

Once home, I began to navigate my way through The Department Store job opportunities website.  After what seemed like hours of frustration and hitting the back arrow I came upon the position open that was perfect for me - Rover.  I really, really, really want to be a Rover!  This job would entail the following:  hyperactively welcoming customers in to the store then directing them to their desired designer brand of incredibly fashionable, well stocked (smashed together) wheel rack of last season's goodies.  A good Rover also picks up after said customer who tried on 47 tops (all of which have at least 3 stretchy, loopy hangy things) and 63 bottoms proudly deciding on the perfect "one."  When customers complete their purchase of yesterday's treasures, a Rover pesters them about opening up a store credit card.  It's just a dream job, really.

After completing the first eight pages of "Rover" application, I read that the next step would take approximately 20 minutes to complete.  At this point, being a sane person, I knew that I should really take a nap.  I mean I needed to be refreshed to really get into the meat of why The Shack should hire this Rover.

Six days later, I attempted to log back in to my application to "complete the meat."  Wouldn't you know I forgot my password.  Whew, this job is challenging already.  I retraced my steps, back-arrowed a few times, shook the laptop fiercely, and finally found the incomplete gateway to my new life as an employed Rover, I mean human.   Then something started to feel wrong, like I was forgetting something or maybe hadn't completed all the requirements, but I couldn't put my finger on it.  But I figured, what the heck?  Let's just submit this baby!  Done and done!

For hours, I carried my phone around with me like I actually used it as much as those other people in their car or at the grocery store or in the airport terminal or in the doctor's lobbies.  You know, some conversations just can't wait!

Two weeks later, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize so naturally I pressed the ignore button.  I mean if I don't recognize the number, I'm going to have to listen to the message and decide if I want to call you back.  Wait!  Kiss the dog and slap your Grandma!  That could have been my new boss from The Shack calling to welcome their newest Rover!  Oh, if I could just turn back time like Cher and answer that call!

Four days later, as I was checking my e-mail, there it was in bright shiny letters:  Message from The Shack regarding your interest as a Rover.  This was beyond exciting, I mean here was my future.
Ba-na-nas!  My life would never be the same.  Soon I would be roving around The Shack like an old pro creating fashionable outfits that are soooooo two seasons ago fresh again for customers who don't care.

"Dear Sandy, thank you for interest in job opportunities with The Department Store.  Unfortunately, we have decided to move forward with other candidates who are a better qualified for the job of Rover.  My first ding letter.  All hopes and dreams are crushed.

Three hours later, I snapped out of my gobsmacked stupor and re-read what I hoped was just a temporary dyslexic episode.   I'm not qualified to be a Rover?  Is this a joke?  Is there really a hierarchy of people clamoring for this opportunity?  Who out there can't clean up a trashed closet all day?  Oh I know - they actually wanted a dog named Rover.  My mistake.

Then it dawned on me.  Did I ever complete the section on the application that was promising to take 20 minutes more of my time, the meat of why I should get this job?  The part where I could say what good fashion sense I have, how much time I spend shopping, how many fashion magazines I fervently peruse over and over again - "The Look for Less" is my specialty!  The part where I say even though I haven't had a job outside the home in a very very very long time, I've been cleaning up my kids closets and organizing their treasured belongings from one to even 10-20 seasons ago?  The part where I say I can do math good enough to help customers stay within their $25 budgets?  The part where I say I know the store's return policy like the back of my hand because I am the Return Queen?  What about the part where I am really good at greeting people?

A real smiling Rover!

I guess I just completely missed the boat on that opportunity.  Again, if Cher and I could turn back time and complete that application completely, the first time, I know I would have had as good a chance as any other Rover out there.  Looking back three and a half weeks ago, I did myself no favors taking that refreshing nap.  Lesson learned, Sandy!

Now I'm thinking I should try for a job at one of the local women's clothing boutiques.   Wait - I just took a Benedryl for my allergies and I feel an over-the-counter drug-induced-coma coming on.  I think we know how this is going to play out.