And right about the same time, the woman who's now my boss was opening this hat store. I knew about it because I am good friends with a good friend of hers. I went in the first day she opened just to check it out, and she was sort of overwhelmed. All these customers, hats everywhere, so much to do, chaos, you know? And about a month later, she was looking for someone to help her. I thought, "Well, a hat shop--this could be an intermediate thing." I never knew I would still be here almost three years later.

Surprisingly, though, I kind of like it. I like being busy, I like helping people--if they're nice--and I like the excitement of the sale. I'd never had a sales job before, but I think I'm kind of a natural. I've actually gotten letters from satisfied customers. You know? People have taken the time to sit down and write a note to tell me how happy they are with their hat and that they think they made a very good choice based on my help. One woman even wrote the owner a lovely letter about me: she'd come in with a certain hat in mind and I basically convinced her that she needs to be open to other hats, and she was thrilled with her purchase. I think that's really nice.

To do this well, you need a sense of style and you have to know how to size people up. You have to be patient--never pressure people. When someone walks into the store, I can tell immediately whether to give them a spiel or not. I just kind of know.

And I listen to people. I take their needs into account. I mean, if somebody is not a regular hat-wearer, I'm not going to let them buy a crazy hat that they won't ever wear. And I'm not a car salesman--I always tell the truth. I've talked people out of hats. I've told them I didn't think it suited them. I'm the type of person that if I'm in a store and a salesperson is trying to sell somebody something and they look really awful in it and the salesperson is telling them that they look really great in it, I go up to that person and say, "That salesperson is just trying to make a sale."

I don't make commissions, so I don't really care if somebody buys something or not--although I do like writing up the receipt and feeling like I've done something. But regardless, I think it is ultimately in the best interest of the business for the customer to be happy with what they bought.

People are funny about hats. I myself am not even really a hat person. I mean, I never wore one until I started working at this shop. I would freeze every winter because I refused to put on a hat because of hat hair and because I didn't think I looked good in them. And those are all the reasons people who come into the shop give me for why they have never worn a hat. But I try to sway them. And I wear hats now in the winter to keep warm. It's very hard for me to wear a hat in the summer, though, I just can't do it. But in the winter it makes such a difference--a warm coat and a hat--you can't beat it. Sometimes people come into the store and they are embarrassed about the particular hat they have on. I always tell them that I'd rather they be wearing a hat than no hat, because at least it means they wear hats. Does that make sense?

Anyway, I work four days a week, twelve to seven. I would probably kill myself if I was here every day. I mean, it's not brain surgery or anything important like that--in the long run, it's not important at all--but the job is stressful. The days that I work I hardly ever do anything at night--I basically go home and veg. Part of it is that at the end of the day I don't want to talk to people, because I've been talking to them all day. Part is that I'm just plain tired. I try to keep working all the time when I'm in the shop because I feel really uncomfortable not working. Not because anyone would catch me or even care, but because it is boring to just sit around.

Every day, I get in, open the gate, turn on the music, vacuum the floor, turn on the lights, and start waiting for customers to show up. You never know who or what is going to come in. I say "what" because you get such a range of people--from sophisticated New Yorkers to celebrities to the Iowans who are visiting and just want to play. Some people are tire kickers, some are interested in buying, and some want to make a mess. Especially around Christmas--the holidays bring in all these people who think it's a stop on the Disneyland tour--you know, they all put on hats and want to take pictures. I have to put my foot down sometimes. I have actually announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is not a funhouse!"

There are a lot of nasty people who come in here. We've had customers return a hat after owning it for two months--that's just sick. And there are a lot of just straight-out shoplifters, too. But the ones I hate the most are the women who come in with a guy, put on a hat, don't look in the mirror, and then just acquiesce to what the guy thinks. I just want to punch them in the stomach. And there are even certain women who let the guy pick out the hats for them to try on, make no decision at all. I've said to some of them, "Why don't you pick out your own hat?" They don't tend to take that kind of advice very well, but I don't care. People should make up their own minds.

Aside from the customers, the main person I deal with is the owner. She's a nut. A lovable nut, but still a nut. Our relationship is complicated because we're also friends. She's constantly saying that she's the owner, but I'm the boss. There's some truth to that. Like I'm a stickler for detail, and I listen, and I pay attention. She is a little more flighty, and we've had some confrontations about this. For instance, we sometimes give a little spiel when people come into the store about how a lot of the hats can be ordered in different colors and sizes. And sometimes I will have just finished saying that to a customer and then she will say it. And I'm like, excuse me, I just said it. And it is because she wasn't paying attention. Also, she's responsible for paying all the bills, but she's not good at it. She pays at the last possible moment. So I have to field phone calls from suppliers all the time. Very flighty.

She's a good boss, though. Very fair. It's a pleasure working here. I lose my temper more than she does. I've been fired many times, I've quit many times, and I've fired her a couple of times. We get along, though. Sometimes the boundaries get kind of blurred between friendship and work, but I think that is part and parcel of working in a small business. Also, we've realized that we can't spend that much time in the shop together because it's not healthy. So she spends less and less time in the shop and consequently, we spend less and less time together, and that works.

I like pretending it's my store sometimes. When people compliment it, I feel proud. And it's doing really well and I take pride in that--even if I'm not directly profiting from it. I've even been toying with the idea of opening a shop of my own; not a hat shop, but kind of a home-furnishings shop. But I'm beginning to feel that I would never have a moment's rest in retail. You're going all the time. And I get bored really easily, so I'm a little afraid of pursuing something so specific.

Also, retail is in trouble. I think this place is really an anomaly. Every other shop I see is going out of business. The only ones doing well are the big chains. I went to Pottery Barn last week and bought a lamp for $29. How can I compete with that? I can't. Whether or not people accept it, they like to be clones. Face it, every single one of us is dressed head-to-toe in GAP.

So I don't know what I want to do next. When you work in retail you are very much in the public domain; people from your life come into the shop--people that you haven't seen in years--and you're working in a hat shop. How do you explain this? You know? How did you get from point A to point B? It makes you feel kind of weird.

And I don't know how to explain how I ended up here. I just don't know. When I was young, I thought I was going to be a painter. But realistically, I can't be a painter. I was a fabric designer for a long time, but I hated that industry. I think that, unfortunately, the fact that I have been here as long as I have is not as much a testament to the quality of the job as it is to my complacency. I mean, this job is only meaningful to someone who really needs my assistance, I don't think that in the larger scheme of things, being a salesperson has any meaning at all. And I think I'm a little stuck here, because it's not an uncomfortable place to be, but it's not the place I want to be either.

I'm kind of frustrated, I guess. If I really figure out what I want to do, I can do it. I've learned that from working here. Because the woman who owns the shop for years didn't know what she wanted to do--she just knew she liked hats. And she's made something really successful out of it. So why can't I?

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