It was raining.
It always seems to rain when I go out to do fliers, and this day was no exception. I was not looking forward to this particular trip, and as I stood in the doorway, in my best, most professional-looking outfit and with a briefcase in my hand, I could not help but sigh as I looked out at the grey, drizzly world into which I was about to step. As I sat shivering in the van, waiting for the engine to warm up, I sighed again, reflecting that one's best, most professional-looking outfit is almost never warm enough.
So, off I set to deliver flyers and to peddle my pianistic abilities at the senior living facilities in our area. The night before, Daddy had helped me (after much frustration) to print out some business cards for this new venture, so, theoretically, I was adequately prepared for the task. Reality, however, does not always go according to theory, and as I drove around, trying to find the first SLF, I felt entirely unprepared for what I was about to do.
After much driving and a little getting lost, I finally arrived at the first stop along my journey. Unfortunately, there didn't appear to be a office, just apartments, so I turned around and kept driving. A little discouraged, I decided to do some flyers on the way to the next SLF. --At least I was somewhat used to that by now.
The next SLF had one available visitor's parking spot, which was not easy to get into. As I jockeyed back and forth, trying to get straightened out, I could easily imagine the people in the office looking out their window, watching me try to park. I finally finished parking and tried to walk confidently to the door --in shoes that are hard to walk confidently in at the best of times. (Why do they even make such things? Why do I even own them?)
I found the office easily, but unfortunately the lady I needed to talk to was out. I left my card, took hers, and walked back to the car, now imagining the conversation of those in the office.
"Well, you don't see that every day here."
"I wonder how old she really is? She was dressed up nicely, but she looks very young."
"I wonder how long she's been driving. Did you see her try to park?"
"She was trying so hard, though. I feel sorry for her."
Sometimes one's imagination can be terribly disconcerting.
Well, on I travelled to the next stop, with several flyer stops in between. I had been to that SLF before, so it was a little easier to find, and much easier to park. I even almost knew what to say once I got inside. The ladies there were very nice, and took my card, although, they said, their budget did not allow for such things very often.
By the time I came to the last stop, I was very much looking forward to going home again. I went to the office, only to find no one there. I could hear voices in around the corner, but upon a moment's reflection I decided that barging into someone's inner office would not make the best impression.
So I stood there, waiting, until finally someone came out. Unfortunately, it was not the person I needed to see, so I waited awhile longer. This time I knew what I needed to say, (having practiced it in the car on the way from the last stop) and the lady was nice. They were in need of pianists, and she told me what they would pay, and inquired as to my scheduling availability, and I left with the promise of receiving a phone call soon to schedule a time to play.
And then it was at last time to go home. I felt I was not going empty-handed, and was no longer discouraged.
It was raining.
I love rain!