Money is on my mind. Not so much because Christmas is fast approaching, but because of my disgust at the way the media whipped us up into a frenzy of Black Friday shopping last week. Watching the news that night, I know I wasn’t the only one to be horrified at the scenes of violence unfolding in one department store in Bristol as
muggers shoppers pushed, kicked and punched their way to a great deal on a television set.
Must be worth it then.
What has happened to our society? I bet those televisions weren’t even top of the line (as if that makes it better), but cheaper models with the lowest spec, the store managers wanting them off the shelves before bringing in the all-singing-all-dancing specials just in time for Christmas.
But they were dirt cheap, so they must be worth the violence.
The other reason I’ve got money on my mind is Lisa’s prompt for this week’s bite size memoir which is ‘interviews’.
As with most of us, I have many job interview memories that spring to mind, some good, some bad, but the one speaking loudest to my heart this morning is a different kind of interview, one that took place in 1994 and changed the course of my family’s life forever.
In 150 words, no more, no less:
The Merciful Interview
Thanks to the madman neighbour, we lost our home, savings and good credit rating.
Desperate to move, but unable to buy another house, we scoured the paper for house rental ads, only to meet with despair: either no pets allowed, or no longer available.
Then, at last, we found the ‘perfect’ home in a safe, quiet neighbourhood. One worry though was that small pets were allowed, but we had a Labrador.
We arranged to meet the owner the next day. As she showed us around, I knew this house was the ‘one’. Swallowing hard, I asked about our dog, promising full accountability.
“No problem,” she smiled. “Your dog is family.”
Hours later, after interviewing other prospective tenants, she called to tell us the house was ours. Her decision changed our lives. We lived there for five, happy years because a stranger gave us hope and the chance to begin again.