Idealism and The Dancing Carrot

Another cool summer morning and the three Greyhounds and I met all the regulars on our creek walk.  We see the same folks, exchange morning greetings and I get that small town feeling others might be having somewhere out there where people actually care about their neighbors. 

These are my neighbors and I don't know their names or dreams or travails or prejudices.  It is a faux kind of small town feeling.  I began to experience this strange passage as I started walking the dogs since I have no job since October.  A petite woman walking three big Greyhounds is not something that can be overlooked, and so we make an impression.  They do too.  They just don't know it. 

This small town music that plays for me, the idea of belonging and being cared about by those around me, the smell of cool, damp mornings along the creek walk, the man in the suspenders who always has a big smile for me and the desire to matter is ever present.  This feeling is the small flame in a really big torch.  Is it idealistic to think that we matter to others? 

Idealism is something that a store manager in early October, 2010 inferred would be my downfall.  He felt that the employees would disappoint me because I was too idealistic about the store.  I have a very different view of what happened.  Of course I do.  This is, after all, my blog not his.

It seemed from the moment I stepped behind the meat counter, I was destined to fail.  It seemed that the supervisor was determined to make it so.  Who knows what was going on in his human pencil brain.  He barked orders and concealed his intentions behind an aloof, clipped speech manner.  I had never made deli sandwiches and I never will again.  I was astonished at my inability to get beyond handling deli meat even with gloves on my hands.  I changed my gloves repeatedly as I had been trained.  A few others did. Some did not. 

The amount of food and effluvia on the floor behind the counter is enough to make anyone not want a sandwich made for them.  I have never returned to that deli because of what I know is on the floor.  I understand from others who have worked in deli's, that is standard in a deli. And so you can call it idealism if you want to qualify my failure in the deli as my fault alone.  For me, the dream of working as a Produce clerk, the penchant I have for fruits and vegetables as the substance of my vegetarian diet, was juxtaposed with my desire to come to work for a national, health food chain. I compromised my dream because there was no other offer.  I could not get them to consider me for the very position I qualify for stocking produce.  Deli was all they ever offered.

I still have the dream of working in the Produce department of a local store, greeting the same customers who are part of my neighborhood and my community.  It isn't as far fetched as it once seemed to feel that connectedness to others yet it seems to be getting farther and farther away from here.  The idealism of The Dancing Carrot may seem a bit childlike or unforgiving but really, it is about holding true to oneself regardless of the pitfalls and obstacles that employers place before us.  They call the shots to be sure and they get to.  However, no one can sully your dream if you don't let them.  The Dancing Carrot lives.  Long live the The Dancing Carrot.