I won’t even bother apologizing or explaining my absence, I will merely say the word “work.”
“Work” is one of those things everyone is all concerned about these days. People having jobs, people stealing jobs. I’ve been fortunate enough (if you will) to not be without an abundance of work. My current job is one of those jobs protected by “rights” and “acts” and “bureaus” so I won’t talk overmuch about it. However, it’s been a solid six months since my last job and I’m finally ready to DISH.
You know what the best part about a bad job is? Bad coworkers. Meet…uh…let’s call her “Lee.”
Pictured: not Lee
Lee is a woman 25 years old, but if you were to cut about eight years off her age, that’s how she behaves. I’d worry about her finding this and becoming angry, but I’m not 100% sure she’s totally literate. She likes arts and crafts, which, when I met her for the first time, I thought was great. I talked to her about sewing and craftwork. She described ambitious projects to me and I suggested she take them to Etsy.
She thought etsy was a great idea! In fact, she wanted to set up a booth at a fair to sell her homemade purses and bags and belts! She wanted to make her own store someday! I thought that was super ambitious of her, so I asked her to bring in one of her homemade purses. I expected something like this:
What she brought in looked somewhat like this:
Is…is it finished?
Her “purses” were hollowed-out pillows, one with a big famous brand name on it, with tacky, mismatched, fraying strips of ribbon hand-sewed on for straps, and a big uneven square of even more mismatched cloth to be a flap, like a messenger bag. The stitches were large and uneven, with thread the wrong color so the sloppiness stood out.
I try and tactfully suggest things like, an iron to make the seams look a touch more finished, a sewing machine to make the stitches less embarrassing, some patters to teach her what the heck she’s doing. She says she can’t use an iron because she always burns and ruins what she irons, she can’t use a sewing machine because she doesn’t know how, and why would she want to? It’s the little imperfections that make a hand-made work more valuable.
That may be true, but who can notice the little valuable imperfections when faced with HUGE GAPING ones?
And what kind of grown woman living away from home can’t iron without lighting things on fire? As I continued to work there, I got a clearer answer to that question…