I was at Bickford yesterday for a record 4 1/2 hours. Had I gone into a coma? Lost the ability to walk? No, I was “selling” jewelry. How, you may ask, did you end up trying to sell in an assisted living facility? An excellent question. Here’s the answer, in fairy tale form:
Once upon a time, there were two retired women who learned to make wired, beaded jewelry. Soon they were producing so much that they couldn’t wear it all. Let’s sell this stuff, they said, so then they thought and thought how to do this thing. “We could sell at the mall event!,” one of the women said, but the mall event was TOO expensive–$150 to sit at a table and maybe sell not one thing. They thought some more. We could sell on a website, said the other woman, but it was TOO unlikely that anyone would see it and sell anything. Then one day, the woman with Silver Hair told the woman with Golden Hair, “There’s going to be a sale at Bickford! We could sell our jewelry there and it won’t cost us anything!” The woman with the golden hair, hereinafter known as Goldilocks, said, “Wha-a-a-t? You mean where my elderly and disabled parents live?” Sure enough, there was to be a Shoppers Showcase to provide residents with an opportunity to Christmas shop. Why not us, thought Silverlocks and Goldilocks, and soon they were madly producing the most beautiful jewelry ever seen, which possibly had magical properties, since this is a fairy tale. But don’t count on it.
The great feast of Thanksgiving came and went, and Goldilocks worked on Mon, Tues, and Wed to make more more more, and finished working right before the Big Sale began. Silverlocks brought wonderful decorations to make the sale table lovely, the two women set out their lovelies for sale, and then they waited for their Prince to come, or Princess, possibly, since any sale would be magical. They waited, and waited, and ate some cookies, and drank some Diet Coke™, and then Goldilocks father appeared, and offered his blessing: “You’re early! Just like your old man!” and rolled happily down to his room where the women’s coats were stashed. Four bells chimed, and shoppers streamed in–well…straggled in. Who’s going to Christmas shop in an assisted living facility who doesn’t know somebody who lives there? Goldilocks made her one sale of the day to a good friend, and Silverlocks made a couple of sales. Meanwhile, they worked their magic to make jewelry out of wire, and ended up with two lovely pieces, and packed up their stuff and went home. Goldilocks put out her light at 9 p.m., and didn’t get up until nearly 11.
Except it’s not the end. I think we are charging too much, T. thinks we didn’t have the right clientele. We are both right.
To be con’t.
Side note. Mom’s room smells JUST AWFUL, and I don’t know what to do. T. will go with me and we’ll try some things. Honestly, I feel defeated by it. I need to talk to the director of Bickford about it. They should be able to do better. We’ll be glad to pay extra, believe me.