“What are you doing tonight?” Dicka said as we swam together at 7:00 p.m.
“The blog is due tomorrow,” I said, “So probably writing it?”
“The blog is always due tomorrow,” she said, and I laughed. Even though it was only a weekly assignment, she wasn’t wrong.
I dog paddled next to her and knew I should get out of the water and apply myself to writing the thing, but I find pool time sweeter when fueled by writer’s guilt and compulsion, so I flapped around longer in the deep end.
On Monday, I thought I’d only write a short missive and that to introduce a recycled piece from 2016 or something—an article I hoped you wouldn’t remember—but I didn’t have a legitimate excuse for the slackery until this morning, Wednesday, at 5:00 a.m. when I awoke to an email from my modeling agency.
The message was time stamped from late last night, 11:49 p.m. (Tuesday), and the words URGENT, OVERNIGHT, and TARGET shouted at me from the subject heading. It was an availability check for a shoot that would start at 10:00 p.m. tonight (Wednesday) and end at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow (Thursday). Nights are when clients schedule shoots at big box stores because real customers are at home sleeping. My deadline to respond to the email was 9:00 a.m.
I flew into sudden accommodation mode. Nothing says “happy emergency” like a sudden, potential Target shoot. Ten years ago, I attended a casting for the bullseye store and feigned interest in an invisible item while shoving a shopping cart around in front of a panel of strangers who ultimately didn’t choose me. I loved every second of it. Maybe this time the fake shopping would turn into a reality?
At 7:30 a.m., I messaged my supervisor at the regular job, relaying the details of my possible booking, and she said, “For sure! Do whatever you need,” agreeing I should take tomorrow off to catch up on sleep. My fingers then sprinted across my keyboard to inform my agent I was free for the big all-nighter.
While I tended to needs at work, I recalled the 1991 movie, Career Opportunities, where the two main characters, Josie and Jim, were accidentally locked in a Target store overnight. She was the popular, rich girl at school; he was the store’s irresponsible teen night janitor. Their worlds collided—and they did too in the roller skates they took from the sporting goods section. Romance broke in and also a couple of criminals they captured together during the night.
Two hours later, word from my agent bounced into my inbox. The client had selected other talent for the shoot this time but thank you for your quick response and flexibility. The disappointment of being released from consideration felt like when one forgets to put the last dirty cup into the already running dishwasher.
Now here I am at 9:38 p.m. on Wednesday night, pecking out this week’s blog instead of preparing to start my Target shoot, and it feels nice that instead of not sleeping at all in an after-hours retail setting with a crew of new-to-me people, I can sleep in my own bed at just the right time next to my not-so-new-to-me Husband.
But I’ll say yes to the next chance I get to lose a night of sleep with Target, and it’ll be ridiculous fun, I’m guessing. You’ll be the first to hear about it.
*Has My Blonde Life inspired or entertained you? If you wish to toss a tip into my writerly coffers, here's how you can do it: @Tamara-Schierkolk (Venmo) or $TamaraSchierkolk (Cash App)
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.