Do You Believe in Magic...
Today is a bittersweet anniversary for me. One year ago today, I lost my magic. Well, I didn't lose it exactly. I had it ripped from my hands, thrown on the ground, stomped on and then set on fire.
I never, ever would have imagined that I would find my inner magic working in retail. But I did. In 2013, my husband had his overtime hours cut and money became tight. Our daughter was about to turn 16 and I wanted to throw her the most affordable super sweet 16 party that I could (that's a post for another time - but it was bomb - and cheap). And since her birthday is right before Christmas - finances were doubly tight.
I posted a message on Facebook.
Think I might need some seasonal part-time work. Any ideas?
Yeah. There were ideas. I don't think I took any of them.
I remembered that someone I had worked with in a past job worked during the holidays for a big toy company going into places like Walmart and stocking toys and setting up displays. I remembered that it always seemed weird to me. But she set her work schedule around that seasonal job so I threw caution to the wind and I did a search on Indeed with that toy company in it.
That toy company had opened a store in a struggling mall our market a little over a year before. It was a specialty store dedicated to one specific market and product. I was familiar with that product because it was something my daughter had played with as a child and it was a brand that I respected. They had openings for seasonal retail associates. So I applied.
A little over 24 hours later I had a side job in retail. Apparently college graduates with over 13 years of real world experience who are well spoken are a bit of a hot commodity. I had never been offered a job before I left the interview before.
But this is how my retail journey started. The first weekend was a cluster fuck of mishaps (also another story) and a couple of years later I was told by my training manager, "I really didn't think that you would come back for your second shift because the first shift went so wrong." (Note that was not because of anything I had done, but because of the deer in the headlights look I gave her when I showed up without any information about where I was supposed to go or any idea that there was even an entrance to the store outside of the main front door.) Truth? I didn't think I would make it very long either and even posted on facebook that "perhaps this retail thing was harder than I expected it to be."
But I stuck it out. In the early days, I really felt like I was a part of a bizarre sociology experiment. You just would not believe the things that happen to people when they cross the threshold of a store. The expectations. The entitlements. The immaturity. Everyone should be forced to work retail as an adult. You learn so much.
Before long, I found a bit of a niche there. I was good at it. This store was a bit of a "destination" so to speak. It was not just a place to shop, but a place that parents brought children to on vacation. A place people came to EXPERIENCE something. It was so much more than just a transaction. As a parent, I was great at helping parents and grandparents find exactly what they needed so they could move on and the fun side of me enjoyed interacting with the children, walking through the store and feeding into their imaginations.
It was no surprised when I was invited back for spring break. Or the following Christmas. Or the following summer or the three Christmases after that. I was good at it. And while I complained up front about working 94 out of 97 straight days, I secretly loved every minute.
I came back to this store for four Christmas seasons before I said, "Hey, if you guys wanted to keep me year round, I can make that happen." At the time, I used the fact that my husband was out of work to justify it. That was only part of the story. I really loved the way I felt when I was there.
You see, I wasn't just making transactions. When I was "on the floor" I had no stress outside of that store. My phone was stored in my locker. I only interacted with store staff and patrons. I "played" with toys (we called it "straightening"). When I was working, I wasn't an introvert. I was fun. I was like some sort of strange adult child. I talked to parents like an adult and played with toys like a child. Things were cut and dry. No clients. No bills. No adult drama. No politics.
It is hard to explain to someone who hasn't worked there. But the things that happened in this store were magical. Yes, we made every day transactions. We sold gifts and gift cards. But we also had children who came into our store craving something special. We talked directly to them on their level. We escorted make a wish kids. We heard random stories about children who lost toys in fires, were in foster care systems, had cancer or had just had 12 hours of brain surgery and we were so touched that we would reach into our own pockets to provide a little special something - anything - that made the experience from special to remarkable.
When I was there, I felt like the things that I did made a difference. It wasn't just about a store, it was about all of the hope for the future that we represented. It was about our mission and our brand. The people that worked there for more than just one season lived and breathed it every day. We got it and it changed us.
A young girl came in one evening with her foster parents and grandmother. I found out that she was going back to an unhealthy situation and her foster parents, who had grown to love her like their own, were fighting it. They were there to have one last "hurrah" before she may be gone forever. My heart broke. I wanted to cry. I talked to my my manager and didn't even get a part of the way through the story.
The main toy they were there to purchase was gifted to the child. It was a gift from us. For the next hour, the mother, father and grandmother walked through the store and cried. They purchased other items instead of what they came to purchase. And they cried. The grandmother looked up at me over the girl's head and mouthed "thank you." The mom hugged me when the girl wasn't looking. But they didn't realize that my soul got more from this than they did. I had done something amazing for that family because I listened to them. It only took a few words for me to make a difference. And one day, that young girl, was going to grow up and realize that not only did that family love and care for her when they didn't have to, but that strangers could do things for others just because.
A year before on Christmas Eve, a surgeon came in looking for the perfect gift for a young girl and her sister. He had just finished a brain surgery on a young girl that took more than 12 hours to complete. Her family was spending their Christmas in the hospital ICU. There was no time to leave a forwarding address for Santa. With his own money, he purchased gifts for these children. And I cried on Christmas Eve because I felt honored to be a part of such a selfless moment.
I have so many stories like this (and for every story like this, I have 10 stories that are so crazy that you wouldn't believe people behaved this way).
What started as a crazy way to earn a little extra spending money at the holidays, turned into something that touched my heart so much. A year ago today, it was taken away.
The mall that our store was a part of, was struggling long before we had opened. They tried to make a comeback by opening retail locations like ours, but it just didn't work the way they had hoped. Our corporate headquarters decided it was better to end our five year reign and close up shop.
I stuck it out until the very last day. I actually took the day off from my "adult" job to be there for the last shift. I was there when the closing announcement was made. I was there when the doors were locked. The people that worked there with me, who all felt the same feelings I had felt and experienced all the same crazy experiences I had been through, were there with me. We were a strange family that no one understood. Approximately 50 misfits from all walks of life who came together under one mission, one brand, one feeling.
For the last year I have been lost. This store is where I found my inner magic. Where I found purpose. Where I felt I had some sort of minor impact on this crazy ball we call earth. I didn't realize what this job provided for my soul until the day someone told me that it wasn't going to exist anymore. I'm not going to lie - there was more vodka in the last 365 days than there was in the 365 days before that. I've been trying to sort it all out for 365 days. I feel like a magical gift was given to me and then taken away before I had a chance to really appreciate it.
For 365 days, I have been searching and searching. Trying to get that feeling back. In my heart. In my soul. In my existence. In my purpose. I have so much to give. Who is going to receive it?
I have a purpose. My purpose is magic. First I need to bring it back for myself. Then I can share it with the world.
If this babbling post doesn't make sense to you, that is okay. This post is for me. I believe in magic. My magic. Your magic. All magic. The magic of a young girl's soul that can set her free (I told you that I sometimes randomly quote song lyrics...). Do you believe in magic?
I never, ever would have imagined that I would find my inner magic working in retail. But I did. In 2013, my husband had his overtime hours cut and money became tight. Our daughter was about to turn 16 and I wanted to throw her the most affordable super sweet 16 party that I could (that's a post for another time - but it was bomb - and cheap). And since her birthday is right before Christmas - finances were doubly tight.
I posted a message on Facebook.
Think I might need some seasonal part-time work. Any ideas?
Yeah. There were ideas. I don't think I took any of them.
I remembered that someone I had worked with in a past job worked during the holidays for a big toy company going into places like Walmart and stocking toys and setting up displays. I remembered that it always seemed weird to me. But she set her work schedule around that seasonal job so I threw caution to the wind and I did a search on Indeed with that toy company in it.
That toy company had opened a store in a struggling mall our market a little over a year before. It was a specialty store dedicated to one specific market and product. I was familiar with that product because it was something my daughter had played with as a child and it was a brand that I respected. They had openings for seasonal retail associates. So I applied.
A little over 24 hours later I had a side job in retail. Apparently college graduates with over 13 years of real world experience who are well spoken are a bit of a hot commodity. I had never been offered a job before I left the interview before.
But this is how my retail journey started. The first weekend was a cluster fuck of mishaps (also another story) and a couple of years later I was told by my training manager, "I really didn't think that you would come back for your second shift because the first shift went so wrong." (Note that was not because of anything I had done, but because of the deer in the headlights look I gave her when I showed up without any information about where I was supposed to go or any idea that there was even an entrance to the store outside of the main front door.) Truth? I didn't think I would make it very long either and even posted on facebook that "perhaps this retail thing was harder than I expected it to be."
But I stuck it out. In the early days, I really felt like I was a part of a bizarre sociology experiment. You just would not believe the things that happen to people when they cross the threshold of a store. The expectations. The entitlements. The immaturity. Everyone should be forced to work retail as an adult. You learn so much.
Before long, I found a bit of a niche there. I was good at it. This store was a bit of a "destination" so to speak. It was not just a place to shop, but a place that parents brought children to on vacation. A place people came to EXPERIENCE something. It was so much more than just a transaction. As a parent, I was great at helping parents and grandparents find exactly what they needed so they could move on and the fun side of me enjoyed interacting with the children, walking through the store and feeding into their imaginations.
It was no surprised when I was invited back for spring break. Or the following Christmas. Or the following summer or the three Christmases after that. I was good at it. And while I complained up front about working 94 out of 97 straight days, I secretly loved every minute.
I came back to this store for four Christmas seasons before I said, "Hey, if you guys wanted to keep me year round, I can make that happen." At the time, I used the fact that my husband was out of work to justify it. That was only part of the story. I really loved the way I felt when I was there.
You see, I wasn't just making transactions. When I was "on the floor" I had no stress outside of that store. My phone was stored in my locker. I only interacted with store staff and patrons. I "played" with toys (we called it "straightening"). When I was working, I wasn't an introvert. I was fun. I was like some sort of strange adult child. I talked to parents like an adult and played with toys like a child. Things were cut and dry. No clients. No bills. No adult drama. No politics.
It is hard to explain to someone who hasn't worked there. But the things that happened in this store were magical. Yes, we made every day transactions. We sold gifts and gift cards. But we also had children who came into our store craving something special. We talked directly to them on their level. We escorted make a wish kids. We heard random stories about children who lost toys in fires, were in foster care systems, had cancer or had just had 12 hours of brain surgery and we were so touched that we would reach into our own pockets to provide a little special something - anything - that made the experience from special to remarkable.
When I was there, I felt like the things that I did made a difference. It wasn't just about a store, it was about all of the hope for the future that we represented. It was about our mission and our brand. The people that worked there for more than just one season lived and breathed it every day. We got it and it changed us.
A young girl came in one evening with her foster parents and grandmother. I found out that she was going back to an unhealthy situation and her foster parents, who had grown to love her like their own, were fighting it. They were there to have one last "hurrah" before she may be gone forever. My heart broke. I wanted to cry. I talked to my my manager and didn't even get a part of the way through the story.
The main toy they were there to purchase was gifted to the child. It was a gift from us. For the next hour, the mother, father and grandmother walked through the store and cried. They purchased other items instead of what they came to purchase. And they cried. The grandmother looked up at me over the girl's head and mouthed "thank you." The mom hugged me when the girl wasn't looking. But they didn't realize that my soul got more from this than they did. I had done something amazing for that family because I listened to them. It only took a few words for me to make a difference. And one day, that young girl, was going to grow up and realize that not only did that family love and care for her when they didn't have to, but that strangers could do things for others just because.
A year before on Christmas Eve, a surgeon came in looking for the perfect gift for a young girl and her sister. He had just finished a brain surgery on a young girl that took more than 12 hours to complete. Her family was spending their Christmas in the hospital ICU. There was no time to leave a forwarding address for Santa. With his own money, he purchased gifts for these children. And I cried on Christmas Eve because I felt honored to be a part of such a selfless moment.
I have so many stories like this (and for every story like this, I have 10 stories that are so crazy that you wouldn't believe people behaved this way).
What started as a crazy way to earn a little extra spending money at the holidays, turned into something that touched my heart so much. A year ago today, it was taken away.
The mall that our store was a part of, was struggling long before we had opened. They tried to make a comeback by opening retail locations like ours, but it just didn't work the way they had hoped. Our corporate headquarters decided it was better to end our five year reign and close up shop.
I stuck it out until the very last day. I actually took the day off from my "adult" job to be there for the last shift. I was there when the closing announcement was made. I was there when the doors were locked. The people that worked there with me, who all felt the same feelings I had felt and experienced all the same crazy experiences I had been through, were there with me. We were a strange family that no one understood. Approximately 50 misfits from all walks of life who came together under one mission, one brand, one feeling.
For the last year I have been lost. This store is where I found my inner magic. Where I found purpose. Where I felt I had some sort of minor impact on this crazy ball we call earth. I didn't realize what this job provided for my soul until the day someone told me that it wasn't going to exist anymore. I'm not going to lie - there was more vodka in the last 365 days than there was in the 365 days before that. I've been trying to sort it all out for 365 days. I feel like a magical gift was given to me and then taken away before I had a chance to really appreciate it.
For 365 days, I have been searching and searching. Trying to get that feeling back. In my heart. In my soul. In my existence. In my purpose. I have so much to give. Who is going to receive it?
I have a purpose. My purpose is magic. First I need to bring it back for myself. Then I can share it with the world.
If this babbling post doesn't make sense to you, that is okay. This post is for me. I believe in magic. My magic. Your magic. All magic. The magic of a young girl's soul that can set her free (I told you that I sometimes randomly quote song lyrics...). Do you believe in magic?
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