Death of a Saleswoman

“Goddammit,” I said as a I fumbled with the key in Raymundo’s wooden door. I could not open it to drop off Sassy Hancock Jones for day care while I hawked perfume in parking lots. What could I do? Wake up Raymundo, who clearly needed his beauty sleep based on his peri-menopausal rant the night before, or leave SHJ alone with March, who I fear might kidnap her just for spite? Choosing the environment with the most stable hormones and brain chemicals would be a risky game of Russian Roulette. Sometimes you have make tough decisions as a parent.

I reflected on how I would feel after I returned home after dropping bottles at cost, having earned nothing, and finding SHJ gone. Thoughts of my rebirth in Darfur may not be enough to keep me in this world without her. Clearly, I could not leave her alone where March would have access to her all day.

I did not want to end my perfume career, but I could not ignore the low returns so far. I knew I would not receive my $25 bonus today, because I did not reach my personal goal of dropping five bottles, due in part to the fact my crew spent half the day smoking instead of pitching. Even if the rest of my team had dropped a motherload of bottles during the night, I still would not be eligible for my portion of the group bonus, because I did not reach my personal goal. The same thing happened the day before, and I did not notice anyone getting the $300 or $500 bonus on Wednesday for having the best attitude.

I enjoyed the perfume job, and learned from it, but I needed money this week. Perhaps I would be better off to go back to my insurance tele-marketing job. Also, I cannot leave SHJ alone with March while I night merch. Additionally, with the busy perfume schedule, I cannot have the phone conversations I need to have during the day: with the laywer, my accountant, my bank, prospective tenants, etc.

When I returned home cashflow negative, there would be no time or energy left to take SHJ on a proper evening walk, work on my business taxes, look for other jobs, advertise and show my room for rent, do my medical marijuana edible R&D, spend time talking to friends and neighbors, or plot the resurrection of Empire State Chocolate.

As much as I wanted to continue as a perfume magnate, something had to give. At the end of the day, I lacked adequate dog care, and I knew what I had to do.

I threw SHJ in a beach bag so we could board the bus to headquarters and turn in our bottles, so Boss J would not send the poe-lice after us, which he let everybody he had no problem doing. I sadly turned in my bottles. I wanted to stay, but just could not.