Powers Of Charm And Persuasion

"Now I know your heart, I know your mind. You don't even know you're being unkind. So much for all your highbrow Marxist ways. Just use me up and then you walk away."

I was working in the Health & Beauty section of the store today, when I came upon a young lady standing halfway down one of the aisles looking perplexed. With nothing on my mind but assisting this damsel in distress with a smile and a "Can I Help You Find Something?" (copyright Target Corp. 2006 -) I walked straight up to her...and then past her and on my merry way.

Clue: She was looking at the shelves where they keep the Monistat.

Note: Sometimes the best kind of customer service is no customer service at all.

I joked to Jennifer when I took this job that it would be less than two weeks before I was promoted. It's been less than that since I started, and today saw an illuminating conversation with the District Team Leader result in my acquiring her business card and an invitation to come and interview at District Headquarters sometime next week. I am lazy and I lack motivation, but I don't need to remind anybody that knows me at all about my propensity for landing on my feet. Also, the powers of charm and persuasion I inherited at least partially from my dear old dad. Also, my accent, which - while it's the very definition of bland back home - appears to make the ladies prick up their ears at distances of up to twenty feet here in SoCal. The District Team Leader is a lady.

So it looks as though the boy is going up in the world once again. I shouldn't think I'll be going too far, but it's bound to be an improvement on seven bucks an hour, and that will do me just fine for the time being.

What else, what else, what else?

Very little, to be honest. The Curve Ball Conspiracy is on another mini hiatus. I hope to get something new up there in a few days. Not sure how much longer it'll last, though. I have five or six very enthusiastic contributors, a few more who might contribute at some unspecified point in the future, and more flakes than I could possibly hint at in one blog post. When you add to that the fact that my time will be at a premium again as of next week, maintaining NFADR and the CBC while staying on top of my own faltering creativity looks a bit of a tall order. If I have to drop something, it'll be a blog, and it won't be this one.

Of course, if I end the CBC or hand the reins over to somebody else, I may well push on with the mysterious and little-mentioned Salty Dog Project. I've only ever alluded to it in the vaguest of terms here on NFADR, but when I created a sample site at Blogspot and forgot it could be accessed from my profile, there were several enquiries as to the nature of the beast, all of which were swatted aside with promises that it would someday rear its ugly head in public.

Which it might. But we shall see. There may yet be a Curve Ball resurgence.

That's all for now. Tomorrow, I'll be bemoaning the fact that - despite my status as a writer of some standing - nobody has ever wanted to interview me, not even for some crap online fiction 'zine. Of course, I will then interview myself for your cutting and pasting pleasure.

You're welcome.