Fortune favors the bold

That's former Cub manager Joe Maddon's philosophy. He believes in bunting, base-stealing, and letting opposing batters see his pitchers the third time through the order. He does these things precisely because other managers don't. He has nearly 1,400 career major league wins. And so this past week I decided to make him my role model.

I've been retired a year now. I've been living off the funds I set aside decades ago, just in case I found myself between jobs. That cushion was supposed to carry me for six months and it's stretched nicely. But it's almost gone.

I just made the first withdrawal from one of my retirement accounts. I know that's what the money is for and since it's only earning 3%, it's really not doing me a lot of good where it is. It makes good fiscal sense to withdraw these funds first. But they have been growing tax deferred and with this withdrawal, the government gets the cut they've been waiting for. Plus, I opened this particular account back in 1992. More than 30 years ago. The woman I was then never really thought I'd be the woman I am now. 

Touching this money has left me surprisingly anxious and emotional. To the point where I discussed it with my shrink. I mean, this is nuts. This is what the money is for! I probably have at least a decade of life ahead of me, perhaps more. If I freak out every time I make a withdrawal, I can look forward to a lot of out-freaking.

So what can I do? I can begin collecting Social Security. I began paying into it when I was 17. It's mine. That will go a long way. And there's something else I can do. I can get a job.

Why not? I'm healthier right now than I've been in years, and am certainly healthier than I will be when I'm 75. And it would give my days the structure they have been lacking. I over think everything, and if I had a job I'd have something to occupy me beyond worrying. 

There's a stationery store around the corner from my home. They sell cards, gift wrap, journals, and calendars. And candles, so it smells good in there. I think it's over-priced so I don't shop often there, but I do browse. It's never terribly busy. It reminds me of the card shop in the office complex where I used to work. When things got super stressful at my advertising job, I'd say, "Fuck this. I want to work in the Hallmark card shop." 

So when I saw a "Help Wanted" sign in the window of my local stationery store, I thought, "This is meant to be." I went to the web site and saw that it is part time for the holiday season. "No retail experience required." Which is good, since I worked in an office setting for 46 years. I filled out the online form, clicked "submit," and waited for them to call me.

No one called me. This hurt my feelings. I was very good at my chosen profession. I won awards working on high-profile campaigns for Fortune 50 companies. I'm used to being wanted. Now, all of a sudden, no one wants me? Ouch.

So I got thinking, WWJD. What would Joe do? Joe Maddon would think outside the box and do something bold ...

Maybe the manager of the stationery store never saw my application. After all, it went to the corporate website, headquartered in NYC. Maybe the corporate software buried me in the queue under applicants who have retail experience. 

So how do I get the manager of the local store to see me? I could just drop in, but how do I know the manager would be there when I happen to show up? What if the manager is busy? I wouldn't be exhibiting much respect for his/her time, would I?

So I did what I do best: I wrote a letter. I began with the sentence: I love your store. I explained that while I have no relevant work experience (zip, zilch, none) I do have something to offer. Over my career I've learned how to work as part of a team, I'm reliable, and I'm comfortable discussing good/services. 

I knew it would make me stand out because no one gets letters delivered by USPS anymore.

"I received your letter and I am enamored." That's what the store manager said on my voicemail. We had a phone interview on Friday and Saturday, I went on my first job interview since George W. Bush was in office.

She liked me! She said there are 65+ applicants in the queue but she hadn't even opened them because she isn't sure how many new people she will need. Because she is bringing back people who worked holiday last year,* she told me she can "only" give me 8 hours/week.

That's OK with me. Two four-hour shifts will be a good way to get my feet wet in the retail world. If I like it, then maybe I can continue, at this store or another.

The important thing for me isn't the paycheck anyway. The reality is, I'm working for the tax withholding. Taxes that I pay on these wages will help mitigate what I owe on my tax-deferred withdrawals and stretch my retirement funds further.

Corporate still has to approve me. My references still have to be checked. But Cecelia, the manager, did say, "You're hired." She told me my letter left her feeling "cartwheels on fireworks happy."

Lesson: Employers don't expect applicants to send personal letters, just like infielders don't expect a hitter to bunt. That's why I should do it. Thanks, Joe.

*I like that she's loyal to her team from last year.

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash