The year was 1988, I was newly wed, and just a few months earlier, had left a lucrative marketing position in Atlanta to follow my husband to a sleepy little Coastal town in South Carolina, known for its seafood and the highway that gets you there but little more than prawns and pavement. Jobs in my field were few and far between.
To go anywhere meant a drive up or down Highway 17, and a road-side sign for a small professional building along the way always managed to catch my eye: "The [I’m-not-about-to-tell- you-and-it’s-defunct-now-anyway] Group". Innocuous in and of itself, it was the sub-heading that made me wistful–"marketing/ advertising/public relations". Near Nirvana for a
wet-behind-the- ears seasoned marketing veteran like me! Meticulous study of the classifieds never yielded the result I hoped for–a "want ad" for this firm–let alone ANY listings for that kind of job in the area. Other than selling timeshares or yes, cleaning supplies, marketing jobs were in short supply.
Well, one day, figuring I had absolutely nothing to lose, I drove to "The X Group", parked my 1980 white-with-a-navy-half- landeau-roof Cutlass Supreme, and, armed with resume in one hand and an adrenaline-filled cup of confidence in the other, marched my behind up the stairs to their office. Yes, I was nervous, but I was young and bold and confident, and just arrogant enough to believe that the owner of the company would immediately see what I had to offer.
Oops, guys, I’ve got to go for now, but I’m going ahead and posting this, half written, just for fun. I’ll be back later today to finish it and provide the photographs that go with the title. This is DEFINITELY an appetizer for next week’s Fun Monday, please be sure to invite your readers to join in the fun! Hope you’ll check back to read "the rest of the story" ;).