Has it really been almost 3 weeks since I have written anything? Hey, things have been happening. I just haven’t written about them.
Where do you draw the line about silly stuff that happens at work and posting online about it? I work in Real Estate and sometimes the funniest stuff happens. For instance: we had a data entry clerk tell us that “no one told me addresses were required” when entering Listings into our online system.
Um. How do you think people are going to find those listings without addresses?
There’s the zero-error factor. A Realtor friend of mine had a home listed for $400,000.00. Last week, she got an offer for $3,900,000.00 on it. Her clients were thrilled.
The buyers probably backed out real quickly.
I have a lot of opportunity to slam my head on the desk.
I work with a Morning Person. You know what a Morning Person is, right? An annoying individual who doesn’t drink coffee and who speaks before you’ve had a chance to even sip your first cup of coffee. Fortunately, we now have a receptionist who does not do mornings and the focus of irritating someone has moved to her. “Good Morning! What’s not good about this morning? The sun is up/the rain is falling softly/your heart is beating/you’re not underground/it’s a brand new day!”
Morning Person is also an extrovert. “What? You’re going out to your car for lunch? Why don’t you sit in the break room with me and eat lunch and talk?”
TALK? You want me to TALK during my lunch hour?
My coworker is also reinventing herself now that she is an Empty-Nester. She
pesters peppers me with questions about my retirement plans. Well, actually, she didn’t realize I was talking about retirement. She thought I was looking for a second career that would take off tomorrow, complete with a Business Plan.
Um. NO. I retire in seven years. I want to have something in place when I retire. (By the way, I have decided to concentrate on artwork). “So, do you think you’ll make enough to live on?” she asks, glibly.
I stare at her. NO. I do have one artist friend who has made a successful career out of it & has even been entertained by the grandson of Henri Matisse (“who?” asks my coworker. Face Palm). I have another friend who shows her artwork in galleries. And yet another who mentored me this summer in the art of hawking my wares at faires.
Right time, right talent, ta da!
I’d like to write the Great American Novel, too, but this I do not share with my coworker. She would
pester pepper me with questions about the plot and twists. No – I take that back. I did share with her, once. She went on a long rant about Stephanie Meyers and how she hit the market at the right time with the right novel. I countered with a long rant on everything that is wrong with the first two books in the Twillight Series.
1. The heroine, Bella, goes out into an ice storm in Washington State. Instead of falling on her arse (as I did in my first freezing rain), she nimbly makes it to her antique 4×4 pick-up truck and drives to school without mishap. It is only upon getting out of the truck and looking down that she realizes her father put chains on the front wheels of her truck.
Have you ever driven a pick-up truck with real chains on? Hell, ANY car with chains on? Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa-thumpa. Clank-clank-clank.
2. Someone comes to the local Pacific Northwest Outdoor Gear store and states they saw “Something big, hairy, and animal-like” loping across the road. Do you immediately think: “Werewolf”?
COME ON! BIG FOOT. Sasquatch. There will be ten Sasquatch Burger Joints opened within a three-mile radius of the first sighting within 24 hours. Everyone who lives up here knows there’s “something” out there. And it is not a werewolf named Jacob.
3. Creepy ancient guy has a crush on teen-age girl named Bella. Acts like a teenager with a crush on and a stalker.
I don’t even have to put anything in italics to answer that.
I never read the last books in the series. I think my youngest did, but only because she was determined that it couldn’t get worse. It got worse. They married and had a baby together. How does a dead guy even have living sperm?
I am not comparing my novel to Ms. Meyers’ novel. Mine could be worse. I’m just saying… don’t compare me with Ms. Meyers until you’ve read the book.
Then you can have at it.
Anyway, I patiently explained that this is a retirement plan. A way to make a few extra dollars on top of my husband’s pension, SSI, and my 401-K (both of which are piddly). My coworker seemed surprised.
She thought I was only 54. I should be flattered, but I’m not. What’s four years? I’m (almost) 58.
She has a much better plan that I do. But planning ahead was never my forte. Handling money was never my forte.
Which brings me around to the irony of my job: I handle money. I’m actually very good at what I do. I make mistakes, but when I do – I own them. No excuses. No “noone told me…”, just a big “OH &%$#”. Most of my Real Estate Agents love me (and I love them), but sometimes I really can’t please one. It happens. It’s work. It’s what I do in the real world.
But I don’t think I ever glibly thought that Real Estate sold without an address.