The Art Job

Margaret had been working with this new company for about a year and she loved it. They interviewed me and offered 30,000 a year. If I had been awake I would have accepted right away, but I was dreaming and so I asked questions about how long the company had been going and if they had ever laid off any workers.

The company ran like a giant consignment shop of sorts. Employees created art of any kind and sold it. All the sale money went to the company and employees all got monthly checks. Margaret had some very beautiful paintings she was selling. An older man I'd met there liked to collect old bottles he'd found and decorate them with paint and/or glued on jewelry.

They regularly went out as groups to find items to make into art. And at least once a week they would sit in this one big room with large tables and adding machines, and they would tally up how much they'd made versus how much they cost the company. There had to be a profit at the end of the year or you would not keep your job.

So I struggled, trying to decide whether to work there or not. I didn't want give up everything I'd put into my current job.

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