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I kind of want Sharon to give me a free haircut, or a discount haircut, or
at least offer to cut half my hair for half-price. I don't say anything,
though, because the woman who tried to get Sharon to use half-strength color and
charge half-price never got an appointment with Sharon again. When you're trying
to get a job, you need a good haircut so you don't look like you need a job. The assistant washes my hair which means the cut just went up in price because I have to tip her. I wear one of those robes that exposes all your cleavage, if you have any, and I look around the room to see how my cleavage compares to everyone else's. Sharon says, "They all have breast implants. You can tell because their breasts don't fall to the sides." Sharon does a good job of getting hair specks out of my ears because I tell her I'm going to an interview. I don't tell her that if I don't get this job my check to her will bounce. The company sells to VARs. What does this mean? I have no idea. I say I write that kind of stuff all the time. I nod and smile. I say I've been consulting for the last five months because that is what you say so you don't have to say no one wants you. I interview with two engineers who talk to me like I'm a computer. I interview with a marketing manager who says she didn't know the company was planning to have a Web site. I get the job. I drive to the back of the parking lot, park my car and cry. I'm grateful my checks won't bounce. I am grateful that I will still have four hundred books to sell in case of emergency. I am scared that there will be another time when I run out of money. I know I'll end up as a bag lady next time.
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