Here is where I could revisit the pitfalls of my high school romantic entanglements, but there is far too much melodrama in that case file, so I'm choosing to take you to my most recent let down.
Until this past January, I had been working in a retail environment. I was lucky to be employed a fairly high quality and well known retail chain, but I was still a salesperson in a midwestern mall. Not what I went to college to do. I determined for myself that after the holiday season, during which I'd been made a temporary manager, I would either move up in the company or move on to something more profitable.
I began putting out feelers and was offered a full-time position with another retailer. At the same time, a friend from school approached me about promoting his dance studio and helping him with managerial and administrative duties. I accepted the somewhat riskier position at the studio, since it had been doing well, they were expanding into a larger studio space, and desperately lacked design and promotional intuition.
The pay was going to be much better than anything I'd gotten at the mall. I had a budget planned out that would let me pay down my credit card debt while not depriving my closet or stomach. The next year was going to be good. I signed a lease on my new apartment based on this projected income. I planned to pay up front for my vacation to Florida last month as well as be able to afford one or two trips to visit The Writer in NYC during his internship this summer.
I received my first paycheck. The day I was set to receive my second check, which also happened to be a week before flying to Florida, my friend/boss asked me to meet for coffee. I knew that things in his personal life had been on a downward slope and I admit I'd feared the worst for the studio. The realization that perhaps this situation had become less secure had hit me midweek and I'd casually begun perusing Monster.com. Sure enough, he sat down and confessed that the studio may be closing and, in any event, they were unable to continue paying me.
I rushed to The Writer's house, which is where I'd been heading when I'd stopped for coffee in the first place, thankfully. I cried. My beautiful plan lay in ruins.
Thankfully, I had also been working at the attached fitness center as part of the deal, and would still have that income. The dance studio owner felt bad about letting me down and promised to continue paying half of my check from his own pocket. I never bothered to plan on seeing another dime from them. I was right. Since returning from Florida, I've received neither assignments nor payments from them.
I bear the owner no ill will. I know he would've kept me if he could, but his good intentions don't diminish the financial blow that I took. I lost nearly 40% of my income because of mistakes he and his partner made in their dealings with clients before I came on board. I've been searching, but nothing suitable has come up. Compared to what I thought I'd have from this job, this is hell.
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