Last Tuesday my wife and I walked past the sex shop that opened a couple of weeks ago and saw they were looking for a store manager/admin person.
I sent my CV in on Wednesday night and the next morning got a call to come in for an interview that afternoon.
I went to my interview at 4.30pm on Thursday, slightly freaking out and wearing a dress.
Me, a DRESS!
I don’t ever wear dresses but that morning in the shower, the universe told me to wear a dress. It was a bad idea, Richie McCaw retired from all rugby that day, and as much as I was not surprised by the announcement, I was not ready. I am not ready for him to not be playing but that is a whole other post that I may or may not write.
Also, my back started hurting like crazy that day (I spent most of Sunday lying on the floor on my back not moving because of labour-type pain in my lower back).
Anyway, about an hour into the interview I was offered the job, because, my new boss said, I have a certain earth mother quality and was grounding him.
I spent all weekend freaking out about the job thing, because it’d been so long and I have no idea what I’m doing and OMG YOU GUYS I HAVE A JOB!!!
To put it into perspective, the last time I had a paying job (as opposed to volunteer work which I did for a couple of years a couple of years ago) was 2003 and I was getting paid about $9 an hour after tax… My last day was Friday 31 October 2003; two weeks later we moved to France; I was 25 weeks pregnant with Miss nearly 12.
On Monday I had a day of unpaid training. Today was my first official day and it was ok.
I even sold stuff.
The shop made the front page of the local paper because some people are in a huff about the kind of shop it is.
I’m the store manager of our town’s only sex shop.