“Under the Leadership of the Great Stalin – Forward to Communism”
When I was a little girl I thought I would grow up to be a painter, a world explorer (pirate) or perhaps an astronaut. The first option was not monetarily feasible, in fact my education towards it resulted in loans we are still paying off. As it turns out, piracy is frowned upon and as for the outer space bit, I am not scientifically adept, in fact looking at and crunching numbers for me is like asking a monkey to type Hemingway, so who knows, that might still be possible.
I did end up going to school for painting and drawing, a very useful degree I assure you. Not that I am sour about it, I enjoyed it immensely, but being paid a salary for sitting in a studio exploring my own mind with my hands just wasn’t in the cards. So, my husband encouraged me to go to graduate school for art education, which I also enjoyed immensely. Unfortunately for me, by the time I had my masters it was 2009, America was deep into the recession, and NJ was dropping it’s art programs like someone had just informed them that art was bad for molding the human mind and instead they should put their remaining budget into preparing students for standardized testing. And so, for the next several years I cleaned asses and always had a cold. That’s right, I taught preschool. I had a love hate for the job. Never, will I forget the children that touched my heart and created so many special memories and wonderful inspiring moments. Largely, it came down to the administration, where my career there ended in a dramatic series of events, but that is a blog for another day. During my time at the daycare, I befriended a woman who would become an irreplaceable figurehead, friend, and change my life forever. After my dramatic exit of said daycare, I landed like a cat, nanny gigs for several people, doing odd job’s, and painting the interior of a woman’s home. About a month into this my life changing friend, let’s call her Sin, contacted me about a part time marketing/office management position at a local Commercial Real Estate Company that she used to work for. Long story short (again this journey is a blog for another time) it is now 3 years later, I have elbowed my way into hire pay and more hours, obtained and hung my Real Estate Salesperson License, done several deals, and established more of a white collar career that was beyond any of my childhood dreams; because what little girl dreams of being in commercial real estate?
Now we roll back a couple of weeks ago. Once in a while, I get request from my boss, or his family, to do things that are not exactly “business”. Nothing sinister. Pick up paper towels, order/return sneakers, place march madness bracket bets. Those sorts of things. This time, it was for his daughter’s world civ class. While she could have done it herself with good old paper, paint and rubber cement, daddy’s little girl had something extra up her sleeve, a twenty-something woman with a degree in art and a company copy of photoshop.