the hurricane inside my brain

I never knew selling socks could be so stressful — or, what kind of economic system is this, anyway?

I’m in the mall today with my daughter Shannon, and we’re shopping for socks. They need to be red, and high – just over her knee – it’s Halloween after all, and she needs to be the perfect Snow White. She’s detailed her costume out down to the height of the sock.

We strike out in three stores, but finally find a shoe store where the salesguy sees us looking at the socks and comes a-running. “Can I help you find exactly what you’re looking for?” Shannon explains her sock needs, and he hustles us over to a different section, flips furiously through the rack, darts in the back room. Comes back with a pair that he talks about passionately but honestly. “These are boys socks. And…I’m sorry, they have a white stripe. But they are mostly red and because they are boys socks they should up to just the height you want them to.”

Shannon says they’ll do. She darts off to her next favorite store, “Forever 21” and I make the purchase.

“Phew” says the sales guy. I notice the flat black earlobe-stretching earring in his ears. “I made my sock quota.”

“You made your sock quota?”

“Yeah. I had just about given up. What were the chances someone would walk in the store 20 minutes before closing and buy a pair of socks? You made my quota. And my day. Thank you.”

“Wow” I said. “I am SO glad I made your day.”

I tell Shannon the story and she looks at me seriously. “What happens if he didn’t make his quota, mom?” I tell her I didn’t ask.

We skip into one last store to get a pair of leggings, which she gleefully finds unattended. We go to pay, and the woman behind the counter says casually, “Oh, and if you’re looking for socks to go with those, it’s buy one pair half off on the rack behind you.”

I drop my wallet in astonishment. “Don’t tell me YOU have a sock quota?”

She nods grimly. “Yeah. And even worse.” She leans over the counter conspiritorally. “I have an insole quota.”

An insole quota. Man, I feel for her. And this time I know what question to ask. “So what happens if you don’t make your quota?”

She shakes her head and sighs. “Not good. First you don’t get promoted. If it happens a few times, they demote you. And it doesn’t take long before they actually fire you. Happens all the time.”

Wow. How sad is that. An economic system based on punishing people if they don’t sell customers stuff they probably don’t want. That’s got to change. No wonder I hate malls so much. It can’t be sustainable. It can’t be fun. And, yeah, this I never knew. Selling socks –one of the most stressful jobs ever.

I am nine-years old, and my friends have decided to hold an intervention on my behalf.

“Lisa, we need to talk to you.”

They are all there – my bff’s (even though we didn’t use acronyms to describe relationships back then.). But these were my blood sisters, pinky promise, cross-my-heart-and swear to god we’ll be friends for life friends.

I look up. I am seated cross-legged on a yellow shag rug. They are standing above me. This can’t be good.

“Here’s the thing. We all know you like to talk about stuff that is really important, but…”

(pause)

“I mean, you know how you always like to talk about the abortion issues and stuff like that?”

I nod.

“Well, sometimes we just like to play with our Barbie’s.”

And that was it. Just like that, I pretty much stopped talking. I had already been rather socially inept, and now, in one sentence, my friends confirmed all of my worst fears: “People don’t want to hear what you have to say.” And “There’s a time and a place to talk about the important stuff. But it’s not here, not now.” And, even worse, “Barbie is where it’s at. Just worry about being sexually attractive and shut your mouth, will you? That’s all you need.”

***

Flash forward…many years. I am talking to one of my current bff’s, Amy. We are discussing the fact that Social Media brings out the best in you, the things you always wanted to do.  It allows you to experiment. To make mistakes. To be creative. To help people. To talk about stuff people don’t always talk about. Here. Now. Anytime. From anywhere in the world.

And that’s what I do. I don’t always talk about the abortion issue, but sometimes — when it’s important — I do indeed talk about it. And I sure talk about everything else under the sun. I talk about trends in technology, and what the future has in store. And that funny dance we do around sexual relationships. And politics and the world economy. I tell people about the things I say to my kids, because sometimes those discussions are helpful to other people with kids. Sometimes I create art just ‘cuz I like to create art. And sometimes I even lol and mean it.

Some days I still worry that everything I say is “wrong”. Some days people still tell me to shut up, or make it clear that what I have to say isn’t all that important. But much to my surprise, the world doesn’t end when that happens. And talking about things that I believe are important sure trumps not talking.

photo courtesy another dear friend who never tells me to shut up: Audrey Huffenreuter