1. You might accept a last minute "gig" as a "brand ambassador" for a Californian Vineyard you've never heard of.
2. It might be called, "Mad Housewife," and they might want you to dress up like the housewife on their labels.
3. You'll drive around collecting things for your gig thereby spending most of your paycheck before you receive it.
4. You'll run out of time to take a proper shower, and resort to a dry shave. It might hurt. And burn. A lot. Even hours later.
5. You might not have the chance to eat the entire day.
6. You'll get to the Front Royal Wal-Mart—as per the instructions—and learn that no one knows what the heck you are talking about—they actually laugh when you ask for the wine manager—also per the instructions. You learn this while standing in your ridiculous Mad Housewife costume.
7. People might stare at you. Numerous people. Yes, the People of Wal-Mart are staring at you.
8. Alan, a nice older gentleman wearing two hearing aids, who tends the vegetables, may bring you a rickety card table and a pink plastic tablecloth—the extent of your "display."
9. You'll probably take a deep breath, and remain undeterred.
10. But that would be a stupid thing to do.
11. Your search for the Mad Housewife wine stock yields a whopping eleven bottles—two varieties completely missing. You may now kiss your bonus for selling 50 bottles goodbye.
12. Ever the optimist, you cheerfully ambassadate for this wine brand—in your enthusiasm, you may inadvertently solicit a minor. Or three.
13. You may learn that there are a substantial number of teetotalers in Front Royal, and they are not shy about telling you why.
14. You remember in the nick of time that you are supposed to take five glorious pictures of this "event" to send back to the booking agency to prove you did indeed do the job.
15. You are surprised by the number of people who are willing to be photographed with a Mad Housewife.
16. A gentleman or two may purchase a bottle from you and then be crestfallen when you explain that your wedding rings are not props—so no, you will not be giving them your phone number.
17. You will likely sell your full stock of eleven bottles looooooong before the contractual time period is over. Which will leave you standing in full costume and itchy legs in front of an empty card table. You will gently brush the pink plastic tablecloth with the feather duster you purchased as a prop.
18. Because you were in the military you feel strongly about the third law of guard duty-never leave your post until properly relieved. But does it really make sense to stand in front of a bare table, with no display to give your get-up legitimacy? I mean, what exactly is left to promote?
19. You'll agonize over the decision to leave, but realize that there's nothing else you can do and keep a shred of dignity. You kiss the base pay of this job goodbye.
20. Back in the car, you do the only sensible thing left. You go through Roy Rogers drive-thru and order two bacon double cheeseburgers. And a side of fresh fruit.
21. You avoid thinking about the math of the day—the money spent, the calories consumed.
22. You'll drive home wishing more than anything that you had bought one of those bottles of wine. Or two. That Merlot had really sounded good. You'll pat yourself on the back—you not only sold the Mad Housewife, you became the Mad Housewife. Mad Mad. Talk about being in character.
23. You'll think to yourself as you lick ketchup off a jumbo-sized pearl: if only I were still blogging.