I cannot believe that I am about to write this....
I PUT MY UNDERWEAR UP FOR SALE ON THE WORLD WIDE WEB.
Fun reminder: I quit my job in June because I was miserable. I cashed out my meager retirement, got a new credit card, and have been stitching together part time jobs.
Recently, after crunching the old money numbers, like I do about four times a day, I realized that I desperately need to make an extra $1K a month to live. What I am currently making will not keep me afloat much longer.
Last night, I had been waiting 30 minutes to get a Postmates order. Yes. I drive Postmates. There is no shame in it. It’s right up there with barista, server, Uber driver… you do what you have to do support your dream. And it makes all of us who do it want to gag, but it is the reality in which we live. I have been driving here and there to make extra monies, but after the number crunching (see above), I realized that I should drive 3-4 nights a week. And. That. Feels. Miserable. It’s not hard, but lately with my other gigs, I am currently working about 60+ hours a week. Soon one of those jobs will be complete, and I will go back down to 40+ hours like a normal human. But because I’m doing something in a field that I “love”, this means that I make very little money. I know I am lucky and I am grateful and recognize the privilege I have. But like an asshat who wants something more, and deep down inside somewhere in my dark twisty soul, I think I believe I can make money doing what I love.
I am rambling. I am over explaining to make up for my shortcomings as a human.
Okay. So. No Postmates order, and I was freaking out. That combined with how much I don’t love spending time in my car, I went on the hunt to find a way to make some easy dough. And that’s when I realized… I can sell my underwear. I mean they did it on Orange is the New Black, so I figured that I could do it too!
After some research, I found a website where I could list the undies. I wasn’t required to share my identity or show my face, but I had to take some pictures of my underwear. I had to state my underwear size, ethnicity, choose a shop name and write a profile description. I used the words “Cubby Cherub” to describe me – gross – and I won’t even tell you my shop name. I completed all of the tasks, and voila! I was a panty entrepreneur.
Over the course of the next several hours, I kept checking to see if anyone had gobbled up my pink granny briefs, but no dice. I checked. And checked. And checked. I mean $30 for My pink granny briefs was a steal.
Then. It happened. The Catholic guilt and shame bubbled up to the surface. I went to the website. The panties had not sold. I deleted the account.
Maybe it wasn’t only the Catholic guilt that got to me. The thought of a stranger sniffing underwear… I can’t. And what if I was too good at selling my underwear on the internet, and I lost sight of becoming a writer. That would just be terrible.
So the quest for a job or another side hustle continues. Jen Sincero books tell me that if I trust that the universe has my back, my dreams will come true. I wonder if she ever sold her panties on the interweb.
I keep reminding myself of the old cliché “Everything happens for a reason”. And well, I think that reason here is clear. I learned that I am not cut out to sell my underwear on the internet.
But hey, are phone sex operators still a thing? I am sure I can handle that.