My Other Car is a Pink Cadillac...

A couple of weeks ago, I was shopping around Target for some goodies to go in Matt's new office. Now that he's upgraded to a real professorial space, it seemed fitting for him to have things like a clock and some mugs. (When he gets tenure, I'll buy him a snifter.)

I was perusing the "CLOCKS" aisle, when a woman with a cart full of stuff stopped me and said, "I'm sorry. I hate to interrupt what you're doing but... YOU. ARE. FABULOUS!"

She said it in such a way that it made me believe her. In the core of my being. "You're right, strange, waifish lady with the fancy scarf! I AM fabulous! Thank you for noticing!" I stammered some convincing thank yous, and she persisted.

"I mean, really... you are such a fabulous woman! Look at all that you're doing - I see you have children. You just have something about you. Do you mind if I ask what you do for a living?"

Ah. The question. I love it and dread it all at once.

"Well... I'm, uh, a Methodist Minister. I work at a church in midtown."

She stopped. You could see the gears turning, the script pages flipping, the improv lights coming on.

"Well. That's so interesting! I know that things are bad in this economy, so if you're ever looking for something else to do to supplement your income, call me! I work for Mary Kay, on the business side, doing consulting. You never know - this could really help you and your family!"

She slipped me her card, and I bumbled as I handed her mine. The inside voice in my head slow-motioned a rebuttal: "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" But it was too late. I'd thanked her. Been flattered by her. Gotten taken by her. Handed her my info.

I shuffled to the checkout line with my clock and mugs and hotpot.

About a week later, I was back at that same Target after a late church meeting. I was starving, and circled through the "CHIPS" aisle for some supplies (read: Pringles). I was taking advantage of the fact that now that I'm responsible for payment of said item, I can open it whenever I darn well please. I was munching through a stack of 7 sour cream n' onion chips when a woman stops me and says,

"Excuse me?"

I paused, mouth full of salty, chippy goodness.

"Mruhuh?" I replied.

"I'm sorry to interrupt... but what do you do for a living?"

I bowed my head, chewed my chips, swallowed my dignity and said:

"You work for Mary Kay, don't you?"

I mean... FOR REAL!?!?!? I'm unmade, disheveled, chomping through a can of Pringles that I haven't even paid for yet at 9:47 p.m, and you're SERIOUSLY stopping me in the food aisle to hit me up for a consulting gig?!

She responded, dejectedly: "Man! Other people always get to the businesswomen first!" and shopped down the coffee aisle.

And that, my friends, is a sure sign the economy is crumbling.