CAREER DERAILMENT

Several years ago, I swore that I would never return to retail.

After it was re-confirmed that I was soon to be let go from the Chicago Match Race Center, I applied to over 100 firms, agencies, corporations and small businesses. In one day, I received 56 rejections.

Rock bottom came to mind.

By chance, I found an undisclosed yacht yard seeking a retail associate. The ad boasted that it is the "largest yacht yard in Chicago." Dead giveaway. The ad was 6 days old; chances were the yard had already found their store associate. I applied anyway and received a call a few days later.

My interviewers spoke of this position like it was the most-desired thing ever. It was all a sham. They were pleased with my interview and one showed me around the place. I was grateful that it was still nice out, but regretted my choice of Ferragamo kitten heels on the rough pavement.

A familiar face -of sorts- produced a genuine smile from me for the first time that day. There sat Momentum on a cradle surrounded by a hundred boats. I don't even know how I picked out Skipper's old boat amongst the others. It's not like she was special or stood out. Just an old girl with fading paint and antique lines.

I interpreted Momentum as some sort of sign and took the job. I now work retail at Chicago's largest yacht yard. Not exactly PR.

Most days I'm disappointed with my situation. I've even been reminded of my failure by a select few individuals. Remember the skipper from Richardson who was upset about his coverage? Yeah, that asshole. "This isn't exactly a step up from CMRC is it?" No, shut your trap. "You're no longer doing PR?" he asked with a twisted smile.

Things look up, though, I'm moving to Lincoln Park with Ipo next month. The 2hour commute to-and-from the yard has been doing me in quickly.

The yard has also had me working on some PR and marketing projects that I'm pretty excited about. Top secret of course ;)

Skipper's friends from back when help me get through the really hard days. An old gent who I had spoken to briefly about the weather stopped mid-sentence, "I know who you are." Okay, sure old man, who am I? "You're Gene Kinney's granddaughter." I choked on my own tongue. "How did you know?" - "I just knew," he said as he walked out. Eerie, right?

Apparently, Devon and I haven't been flying low enough below the radar with Maneater either. I was speaking with a man who I thought was talking about T-10 racing. I confessed that I was only out for one event last season and needed to find a new ride. "Oh, did you sell your boat?" - "I don't have a T-10, I just sailed on one," I explained. "No no. The big red one. You still have it don't you?" I'm still trying to place who this guy is. Was I really that drunk on Mac Island? Don't answer that.