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.
