I really hate that expression. It’s usually preceded by some depressing story about love, loss, etc., with an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. What are you supposed to say? “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be” always seems to be my go-to platitude. And if to the receiver, I’m sounding like a broken record, then you need to make your life better, even if it wasn’t meant to be!
The incident that brought up this vitriol wasn’t nearly as dramatic as those stories one hears, but equally frustrating. As those of you who have follow me on Facebook, you know I’ve been busting my buns, making accessories that I hope will sell at crafts fairs. I was excited that maybe today, the last day at this one venue, I’d be able to cover the basic costs of making all these goodies. With three dismal shows under my belt, I was willing (and still am) to give it another go.
I made my normal preparations last night, ensuring that I had proper ice packs for my lunch since the temperature hit the 80s today – again – that I had plenty of business cards, that all the inventory was in the traveling bags, that the dummy heads still appeared presentable, and everything that was in its proper place and order. Everything was A-OK. We were ready to roll.
Then reality sets in. Didn’t get to sleep until 6 am and the alarm went off at 8:40. Had to splash cold water on my face at least twice. Since part of my prep is picking out the clothes I’m going to wear, that didn’t take long. With a set-up deadline of 9:45 looming over my head, I was in my car and driving with 25 minutes to drive 10 miles and be ready for biz. As I don’t have a very complicated display table, we were still good.
Then the fuel gauge gives me an orange light. We are on “E” and I’m not one of those types willing to push my car’s gasoline capacity limits! So I had to go out of my way to get to a gas station, and while there, I discovered I had forgotten my cell phone. I needed that to make scheduled calls as part of my business. So back I go.
When I get back in the car it’s already after 10:00. That means people are already ambling around at the farm, looking at the animals, examining the goods for sell. Well, mostly ambling around in my limited experience; it’s rare that people start buying before before 1:00.
After reassuring myself that the owner, who was emphatic about being on time, won’t be too terribly miffed, I’m watching my speedometer to ensure I don’t get crazy fast, which is kind of hard on these back roads anyway, and trying to remain positive. I hate being late, especially in this kind of situation, but I always seem to be in a losing battle with the clock.
When I reached my destination, all was well. No one was waiting with arms crossed and toe tapping, so I pulled my van into the vendor’s area, being as careful as I can because there are little children everywhere. I see my spot, turn off the engine, and scoot around to the back to start unloading everything. And I see this.
So let’s play the game of “What’s Missing?”. See it? No? That’s because it’s not there. The table, where I’m going to place everything and drape with a cloth and dangle items from there with clothespins. OMF!
I text the owner and ask if she has something I can use. She does not. And I’m hemmed in now by the horse buggy that’s loading up with it’s first payload of the day. So I wait. When the buggy has moved, the owner comes around and helps me back out so everyone’s safe and she’s all ready to see me next year.
The point of this story? I’m losing my mind. I cannot believe I forgot the table.
Well, it’s done and apparently, there will be another opportunity for another major screw up next year!!!
See you in the funny pages.