But first, some background.
For as long as I can remember, I have loved to stamp. Before I was even in the double digits, my sister and I would invite our cousins over for “card-making slumber parties”. These nights consisted of an explosion of paper, ink, crayons and Lisa Frank stamps. At thirteen, I got introduced to a company called Stampin’ Up!. I attended a stamping workshop with my mom, and learned about the magic and possibilities of stamping. And that is where my obsession began. I started saving up the money from my paper route to purchase stamps. I would pour over the catalogs in bed before I fell asleep. I attended more and more workshops, sometimes being the only one under the age of 30. I took a calligraphy class, learned new techniques, and delivered my hand-made creations to everyone who would take them. As years went by, the supplies began build up. If I ever spent more than two weeks away from home, I would insist that my paper and stamps came with me. I struggled in college to find the time to express my creativity- I still managed to get a project in here and there, but the inevitable dust slowly began to collect on my beloved art supplies. Weeks turned into months and months to years, until I got home from my mission and realized that unemployed people have A LOT of free time. I began cleaning and organizing and remembering what I used to do when I had time to do it. The day I found my stamps was like a sweet reunion with an old friend.
I wouldn’t say that I was picky, I would say that the economy was bad and I was holding out for the perfect job. I’ll be honest and say that I began to love the routine- wake up when I want, eat when I want, read when I want, sleep when I want… I apologize now to those of you who helped me through those hard months and listened to me complain.
And then it happened. Two months after I had wishfully applied for a job at Stampin’ Up! the phone rang- they wanted me to come in. Over the next few weeks I was filled with all kinds of thoughts and emotions.
“No way am I ever going to get this job.”
Phone call #2.
Could this actually be a possibility?
Phone call #3.
Is this still happening?
Phone call #4. I tried to act cool as they offered me the job by responding with “I’ll have to think about it.” Yeah right! I was already sold. After three trips to my own personal Mecca*, I was actually going to get to work there!?
It’s now week two, and I worked with people who are 100% more obsessed than I am- loving every second of it.
*I say Mecca because it really is quite a journey- one hour commute both ways. BUT when you get to play with colors like creamy caramel, crushed curry, and pumpkin pie all day it's totally worth it.
