Feed Me Seymour

"The appetite of laborers works for them; their hunger drives them on." Proverbs 16:26

Trader Joe's Wilmington is open.
1600 Applicants.
89 Team Members Hired.
This is the bleak job landscape of our new town.
Just one surprise you contend with when you leap without looking...

Could be worse I reckon, I could have such depleted funds that the ability to shop at such a grocery store to obtain this startling information would not exist. Thank you Lord for that and frozen veggie dumplings.  (Since my desire to have Thai Food delivered in twenty minutes and on a shoestring can't be fulfilled at my new address. Sigh.)

In the last eight months with my voracious appetite as a constant companion, I have been skimming my rolodex of the ghosts of employers past. And it turns out, the last four of them have fed me, and well. An NFL commissary with enough carbohydrates and fats to feed the incorrigible linebackers, 53 others on the roster, coaches, and me. A private school with in house chefs doling out a hot tray lunch (my all time fave), an extensive salad bar, and daily soups. A boutique designer who handed me a pile of Upper West Side Restaurant menus morning, noon, and often late nights with her black AMEX and said "order enough." To Law and Order SVU catering that supplied me with three more than square meals per six days a week.

This perk easily adjusted to does not go unnoticed when I'm staring at an empty cupboard once again.

Now, desperate times calls for desperate measures and I flashback to the early days of New York when my ever binging, constant spending, over botoxing, on and off dieting roommate would throw a half eaten Lombardi's pepperoni pizza in the trash and I'd swoop in and get it before it went to the incinerator. Or when the day old bread basket from a Midtown bakery would make the rounds at Barney's cosmetic counter and every waif turned up her powdered nose, I was glad to stuff Rugelah in my mouth with rapid fire. But I digress down memory lane.

 My check card still works, the nest egg remains barely feathered, but I'm getting back into practice for all unseen preparedness. By sweeping the produce and dairy section at Whole Foods, I can get my fill of navel oranges, holiday grapes, and aged Gruyere one ounce cube at a time. By trolling Harris Teeter's deli, baked baguette and Irish butter are plentiful, while the counter crew is always glad to give samples of cold cuts and fried chicken, especially to the pregnant girl who seems to have nowhere else to spend her days...This is living.

I look to the words of a fellow wanderer Jack Dawson when he said, "I figure life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You don't know what hand you're gonna get dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes at you... to make each day count."

Let's just hope, I don't go down with the ship.