My Job Is Better Than Your Job…Sometimes…

I love my job.

I work for an up-and-coming laptop/camera/everything bag company and my official unofficial title is “The Queen of Everything.”  My main job is to shake hands and kiss babies, look pretty, and meet people; going to parties is considered “billable hours.” I work one day a week in an office with cool people and the rest of the time at home, at trade shows, or on the road. And I make people happy by giving them stuff. What’s not to love?

About two years ago, one of the owners of UNDFIND contacted me to do a review about one of their new products –a little funny-looking thing called a Fishbomb. At WPPI, the following year, I went to their booth at the trade show and introduced myself to the guys. They had just released the ONE bag (version 1). A few weeks later, they invited me into their studio and asked my opinion on a few new products, and gave me a ONE bag to try. (It was Thursday before Memorial Day weekend. I know this because after leaving the studio that day, my Mini Cooper was struck by a hit-and-run driver and I was sent careening across the freeway. I remember vividly trying to shove everything into my new bag before the tow truck came and took the car away. Haha). One of the things I wrote in my review was that I wanted more pretty and feminine covers. And so a few months after that, they invited me to put my money where my mouth is and go on a fabric-buying trip. They loved me so much (obvi) that they crowned me Queen (well, technically, they gave me a “real job” title, but “Queen of Everything” is on the business card), and voila, here I am today.

One downside of my job, though, is that I sometimes meet very, um, interesting, people. Like the 60+-year-old man at the trade show last weekend that was a little too (creepily) enamored with me…in a not-so-cute little old man way. After talking about taking me on vacation (which I smiled politely and declined), asking if I had a boyfriend (which I almost lied and said yes –a strapping, bodybuilding, special forces type?), and giving a reluctant me two “kisses” (Hershey’s kisses –in which I almost freaked out and showed him some boxing moves when he wouldn’t let go of my hand), he hands me this card and said he’d wait by the phone 24 hours a day until I call:

And being the true professional I am, I winked and smiled through gritted teeth, turned around, and knew that this was definitely going on the blog.

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