"If you will recall," the reason I decided to look for a job outside our home is because I am just a LITTLE too good at solitude, and I thought this particular job would meet several needs:
1. Sounded like fun. As my friend called it, "the zen of shelf stocking."
2. Money could change hands. Me doing work in exchange for a few pennies every so often.
3. Gives me a reason to go somewhere and see people. Talk to them. Listen to them. Ask questions. Be seen by people outside my home, so they know I still exist.
Then came the bandaids, which are something I don't want to have to pay a lot of attention to, because there's NOT ENOUGH SAND.
But, please refer back to #3.
See, I realized a couple of things. At home, there are also mundane things that I do. Pick up the toys. A hundred times. Handle the extra packets that come with takeout food. (There's an important job!) Figure out if we need more tissues. Flatten and roll the plastic grocery bags. You know what? Those are mundane things, but I do them because they need to be done. And, not that I need to get paid for everything, but I don't get paid for any of those things. That's ok.
I didn't take this job because of the money. And everything I said the other day was true! If I had to deal with those bandaids all day long, I would definitely run screaming the other way. But, that's not all I do. While I am doing these mundane tasks, some of which are quite zen-like, I am also being in relationship with the people I work with and for, the customers who shop at our store, and my co-workers. None of those people and I will have a relationship if I am at home.
Many of these relationships may be just a small step more personal than online relationships I have with people, but they are a small step more personal. I need people. People need me. So, I'm staying for now. And I'll bring my kindness and joy to my work and to the people I work with, and I will be the recipient of the grace and poetry that is people in all shapes and sizes.
My boss was happy when I called and asked her to tear up my resignation letter. And so was I.