I’d
hoped to have more to write about, but things haven’t exactly gone how I
planned them this year.
When I left Burt’s shop, I left with
the intention of starting at another shop soon after. A shop that processes whole animals, humanely
raised, mere minutes from my home. I
gave them my “meat resume” months before they opened.
And they never called.
I went in and visited, because it
turns out that Logan—the guy who introduced me to my “traveling wife” Ally—grew
up a few houses down from the owner of this new butcher shop. And Manfriend lives four houses down from
where he lives now.
That was an awkward discovery.
At 7:30am on a Tuesday, I was saying
goodbye to Manfriend in his driveway, when here comes the butcher shop owner
jogging down the sidewalk on his morning run.
Manfriend waves hi. Shop owner
nods hello, then looks at me, and his expression runs the gamut from confused,
to surprised, to recognition, to acknowledgement, and back to confused shock.
Obviously, I had to go in and
explain that I was in fact not stalking him; I was (and still am) simply dating
his neighbor.
He still never called me about a
job.
I offered to mop this guy’s floors
for free.
He still didn’t call me.
He’s always very friendly whenever I
visit his shop; they make amazing products and I’m always happy to support
local.
At Vintage Bike Night I met the man
who put together new guy’s charcuterie room; he tipped me off that they’re
about to make a jump to higher production, so I went back and dropped off a new
resume “just in case” they’re looking for help around the holidays.
Still no call.
The shop posted on Facebook that
they are looking to hire some new people.
I about threw my phone against the wall.
Then Manfriend’s sister tagged me in the post: “This would be the perfect job for you!”
Sigh.
I simply responded, “They’ve had my
resume for over a year, smiley face.”
My guess is that they’re wanting
daytime people, because every time I see the owner, he asks if I’m still
working that insurance job.
Yes, I’m still working the job that
gives me health insurance; you’ll be wanting me to have health insurance if I’m
gonna work your bone saw.
I text Corey to tell him about the
charcuterie man. I don’t hear back from
him.
