I know what you are doing. I do it too. You go around posting comments on other people's blogs hoping to get a link back to your own site and get you some Google juice. The difference in you and me is that I seek out blogs with similar topics to whatever blog I am trying to promote. The last I heard relevance is important to Google. When I visit a blog I read the post and if I can think of something intelligent to say I join in the conversation. You gotta have a lot of blogs in your feed reader to make this work.
I know this blog is beautiful and that I can write circles around Hemingway. Or maybe that is not true at all and you are a lousy judge of art. Either way, comments about my mini talents will get you deleted.
This is not a how-to blog unless I wake up in the morning and decide to write a how-to post. Questions about how I made such a wonderful blog or how I keep it spam free will be deleted. If you honestly want me to make you a wonderful blog such as this I will direct you to my contact form. Along those same lines, I kinda wish those wanna be professionals who e-mail me daily asking me if this website is living up to it's potential would dry up and blow away.
BTW, I know I gots some images not showing up on the site. Thanks.
This story is a little difficult to start. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to to tell you that for the most part I was terrified beyond my wits and then get on with it.
I was the manager of the local farmers' market and Sally came up to me. She was trying to pack up and leave when some guy put his ramps on her own personal table and tried to sell them. I went down there and told him he couldn't sell his ramps there. He went all off on Sally for telling, but he moved on.
For the uninitiated, ramps is a kind of onion. I have since heard tales that they will mess with your mind if you eat too many, but I dunno.
Anyway I moved on down and found the same guy in the center of the market still trying to sell his ramps. I told him if he wanted to sell ramps he would need to fill out the paperwork and get a qualified spot. I didn't even mention the $100 registration fee or the weekly spot rental. He told me he just wanted to sit and drink the coffee he had just bought. I told him if he wanted to do that he would need to sit in the coffee drinking area.
We went on a bit back and forth and finally I told him that I must maintain order at the market. He was a fit, camouflage wearing survivor kind of guy. I fully expected him to snap my neck at any moment. He asked me did I really understand the consequences of "keeping my order". I looked him in the eye and said "I don't think anybody is going to threaten me over a farmers market"
He said "You are right" and left.
I was so terrified I got my assistant to check if he was really leaving.
Meanwhile, vendors and the band had been trying to get my attention to see if they needed to call 911. Really kids, you don't need my permission.
Girls, you have options on how to project yourself. Believe me, I have done it. I have also been accused of having low self esteem, not sure how that figures in, but here it goes.
One example of sexual harassment that I was party to and could have easily stopped was a guy coming on to a girl who was giggling. Girls, do not underestimate the power of a dirty look. I could have stopped it easily if I had a clue.
Fast forward 30 years and girls are complaining about come ons to their frequent sexy selfies. Sure I ran around half naked in the 80s but I was right there in their face to put them in their place. In today's media I figure you gotta offer some substance before you cry foul.
There is one thing that seems to happen to me every time every time I visit a store. The first time it happened I was in a big department store, and I was maybe fourteen. And no, I did not look mature for my age.
I am the eternal victim of something that should never happen. This is not quite up to the embarrassment level of asking an overweight woman "When is the baby due?" but it does involve a question that should never be asked.
"Do you work here?"
First of all, if you are in a store and the person you are addressing has a name tag prominently displaying the name of the store along with their own name and you ask them that question they will automatically think you are annoyingly stupid. When I worked in a big box the question would drive my friends up the wall. It never really bothered me, because I would always answer with something like "No mostly I stand around with my hands in my pockets".
But that is not what I came here to whine about. The thing is, whenever I am in a store, any store at all, I am constantly asked that question. A few notable incidents stand out in my mind.
At one time I made my living as a gardener. The gig was not far from my house and usually I would go home and clean up a bit after work before going into town. I guess you could say I really got into my work. I didn't just get dirty. I would get ground in, stinky, dirt in your hair, muddy, perhaps bloody Pigpen kind of dirty, the kind of dirty people notice. Anyway for some reason on this particular day I found myself in a grocery store pushing a shopping cart when someone asked me The Question. Really?
Another time I went into Walmart. I had taken off my nametag but I was still wearing my Kmart shirt. She asked me The Question and when I said no she argued that I was wrong. I think I would know...
And then there are the plant nurseries. I can't begin to visit a greenhouse without at least 5 people asking my opinion on a certain plant. This does not bother me at all because the reason I ever got into the plant trade at all was because I found at an early age I knew more about the plant in question than whoever is running the register.
Now here comes the funny part.
I was at a plant store.
I hang out at this particular store a lot and I am accustomed to being asked The Question there, I always reply "What do you need?" This time I had a question of my own. I asked the lady standing there and she went over to help. In the course of our conversation it was revealed that she did in fact not work there. I apologized. A woman nearby overheard our conversation.
She said: "Wait, I am sorry, do you two actually not know each other? I thought you were twins."
I looked at the other lady and saw a beautiful girl maybe 10 years my junior. She did not say anything. All I could think to say was: "I am flattered".
So, my career as manager of the Watauga County Farmers' Market ended on December 31, 2011. I was maybe a little bit sad at first. That lasted about 3 days. Nowadays I just go around getting a kick out of being Citizen Me.
I gots me a nice little part time job digging ditches. All I have to do is show up on time, wear the right colors, and say the words they want me to say. I have a lot of fun with it. When I leave my time is mine, nothing to prepare for, nothing to print, nothing to report.
I spend my free time raising Lionhead bunnies. I even sell a few from time to time. I am building my own rabbit website but don't expect too much too soon as I spend more time cuddling bunnies than anything else.
I am so excited about owning my life again. I can't wait to see what happens next!