For almost a year now, I keep bumping into people who are surprised to see me around town.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"
Yeah, I was. For three months. Turned out what I had wasn't a real job. It was speculative. And I was supposed to justify my being by ensuring the existing marketing person got fired so that they could afford me. So that gig lasted all of 90 days.
I've been back here since last February.
Luckily we didn't sell the house. Melanie found a decent job. But the best I've been able to manage was consulting with a couple of coffeehouses, getting a few small jobs from the one freelance client I kept all these years, walking dogs, selling coffee at the farmer's market in the Strip. I've had a couple of interviews for marketing positions where I was certain I was the best candidate, but I was wrong.
So it occured to me that while I'm soon to turn 57, there's nobody beating down my door to be their marketing guru. But, I constantly run into people who want to know if I'm going to do anything related to coffee.
And maybe I will. Too many coincidences have happened over the past few weeks for me to ignore this any longer. I've been approached to roast for someone else. I've been asked to provide coffee to a couple of shops. And more than one restaurant.