I made it through the honeymoon (and isn't that a sentimental way to refer to what should have been a carefree time) and immediately upon returning home began looking for jobs. Most of the time I would show up to interviews and realize one minute into it that I had no idea what the helk the potential employer was talking about, but I would nod and smile and hope for the best. Many of the jobs required a background in sales, something I'm not quite cut out for. My sales pitch is something along the lines of, "hey, I wouldn't buy it either." It seems honest and refreshing, but has yet to catch on.
I'm getting ahead of myself. Before I could go on all those interviews I first had to go to an employment agency. Back in the early 90's it seemed the only way to get a job was to have someone else get it for you. Maybe this is still the way people do it. I'm a dinosaur and admit to having no idea how one would go about getting a job today (unless it involves becoming an adult newspaper carrier). At the end of my meeting with the agency, the woman asked if I had an interview suit ready because she was sure she was going to be able to get me in to see some people quickly. I did what I always do when I'm nervous and afraid to tell the truth. I lied. Not only did I lie but I described the suit for her. I can't explain it. I guess I was just hoping to see what she thought of the pretend suit.
When I returned home Greg was waiting for me so he could head over to school. We had one car so we were constantly arranging our schedules accordingly. And of course, as soon as he left in the car, the phone rang and the woman from the agency shared with me the wonderful news that I had a job interview that very afternoon. Good thing I had that suit all ready!
This was before cell phones, which meant I had no way to let Greg know I needed the car back so I could go shopping. Panic set in. Oh, but then it hit me; I had a bike and a bike is just as good as a car. Crisis averted!I wrote a note for Greg, just in case he came home, and then I left. And two minutes into my bike trip it started raining out. It started raining hard and I started crying and cursing my stupidity and the fact that I hadn't just dropped Greg off at school that day, and why, oh why, had I lied, and what would the sales people at the store say when I strolled in sopping wet to buy a suit? It was a long, wet, self loathing filled bike ride.
But I made it to the mall and found a suit rather quickly and I still remember what it looked like. It was this sort of beigy tweed thing and the skirt came to my knees and fit perfect. Clothes always seemed to fit well back in the easy breezy days of non-stop bathroom runs. Oh those were the days. When the saleswoman was ringing me up I told her I had to ride my bike back home in the pouring rain, so could she please make sure to wrap that suit up well, as I had an interview soon and I thought it would be better if the suit wasn't covered in mud. She was definitely cut out for sales because she acted like my predicament was something she encountered ten times a day.
As I was riding my bike back home in the pouring ran, congratulating myself on my luck at having found a real suit that was a pretty close match to my pretend suit, Greg pulled up in our car. He was laughing at me, but in a good way, in a way that says, you know, I'm really glad I married you because if you're willing to do this for a job you probably won't get, I can only imagine what you'll do for things you really care about. He didn't say all that stuff, but he did let me know how impressed he was with my determination, which made not getting that job a little easier to swallow.