A Dirty Job

Just when I thought I was the biggest loser on the planet, my brilliant and talented friend called to tell me her job application had been rejected by Whole Foods. And she's even a vegetarian!

It was probably wrong of me to laugh at her, but sometimes it just feels good to know that somebody is at least as pathetic as you are. My friend has been putting her PhD to good use, cleaning up at a yoga studio when she's not busy manning the desk or teaching a class. Whole Foods was to be her next rung on the ladder of post-menopausal success; no mops, no brooms, no toilet brushes, just a cushy job at the register.

As it happens, I received a call yesterday from the attorney I worked with way back when, before kids and marital problems (at least serious ones) and dogs and car crashes on the way to college graduations. He wanted to know if I would be interested in doing some legal work. I'm giving it some thought, but I'm not quite sure I feel like stepping down a rung on my career ladder. Writing briefs hardly requires the kind of skill necessary to master a cash register in a yoga clothing store, much less dismantle a mannequin to change her clothes.

Soaring through the glass ceiling does have its price, though. Retail is tough on the feet, especially when you're fifty-one years old and are accustomed to spending most of your days moving from one seat to another (when you're not napping). But that's no reason to put the breaks on my skyrocketing career; I've spent a lifetime shying away from challenges for fear of failure, and I'm determined to stop doing that.

Maybe I'll take on a little legal work as kind of a mindless side job, but I'm staying on track. I'm going to master returns and tax modifications and post voids if it kills me. Who knows -- I might even get an acceptance letter from Whole Foods one day.