one of life’s amusing ironies

I cannot change the world, only write of it a word at a time, keepin’ it real, and let the chips fall where they may.

It was in that spirit that I penned an email to Posh Maids yesterday briefly communicating my week’s experience with them (not returning calls, the original that they had initiated) and views (unprofessional, discourteous, poor business practice).

Then I let it go, cleansed of having written what needed to be written, and went about my day.

In one of those amusing little ironies of life, hours later the phone rang. Guess who. Posh Maids, again requesting an interview.

Unable to take the call, I returned it later, left a message ah-gain. Time’ll tell whether they follow through.

Did my email propel them into action? Who’s to say but they. Perhaps they saw their reflection in the mirror I create with words. Perhaps someone read it and thought: “This woman’s right. It is discourteous and unprofessional not to return calls, be they from clients or applicants. It does reflect poorly on us as a business.”

Whatever the catalyst, I’m pleased. I’m pleased when words are instruments of change toward the better; when the words are mine, the pleasure and reward are magnified and multiplied, signaling that I’m on purpose. Off path and purpose, I’m flailing desperate meat for the shark.

Whatever the outcome of this odd ongoing dance with Posh Maids, my work yesterday was done.

The search unrelenting for work meanwhile continues.


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