It’s difficult times that show you who your real friends are.
The job at the gym fell through. The more I think about it, the more hurt I feel. Bill was one of the original investors; he helped the company get its start. When he asked the founder about a job, it was all smiles and of course, what a great idea. Two meetings later, meetings at which Bill shared his expertise and counsel gratis, it’s never mind, maybe some other time, office space is so crowded now. If Bill hadn’t been such an integral part of the reason the gym is even solvent today, I might just chalk it up to hard times. But the company is doing well and I feel screwed that they couldn’t figure something out.
And then there’s my hairdresser. I like a good haircut and, all things being equal, am willing to pay for it. Of course all things are not equal, and so when I went yesterday for a bang trim, I told the woman who cuts my hair that we’re in financial difficulty and it’ll only be bang trims for a while until Bill finds a job. She proceeded to trim my bangs, touch up my haircut, and shoo me out the door before I could even leave her a tip. (I’m going to be baking some bread for her today. What else can I do?)
Of course my real friends are still my real friends. Julie, whom you all should be reading if you’re not already, has made several suggestions and offered to help me get started if I decide to teach private music lessons. And another dear friend, whom I’ve been close with for over twenty years, has been brainstorming with her husband about ideas for us and keeping in close contact to see how we’re getting on.
One of the blessings in all this is how moving it is to feel the closeness and caring of our true friends.