The Opportunity Store was sold out of guys so I got something else delivered instead

Okay, I've been promising you this epic tale and now I finally have the time to deliver it. I use the word epic with a bit of hyperbole but surely you are used to that from me by now. Still, you have no idea how hard it was for me to sit on this story for so long. I haven't decided yet if I will publish a new part every day or every other day. Anyway, here is part one.

June 5, 2009 was the day I didn't meet Prince Charming. It was also the day I climbed onto my own white horse to save myself from almost certain demise, or at least an eventual one-way trip to a room with padded walls.

You may recall this past summer I got together with Nigel, his girlfriend, and Nigel's friend who was bringing a friend he wanted me to meet. Nigel had tried to get the introduction set up for Friday, June 5, but the day didn't work for his friend, which was fine for me as I was also given the opportunity to spend the weekend across the border with my mom and dad. I'm glad I got to get away that weekend because I finally got the sleep that I wasn't getting at home and indulge myself in shopping for for a new summer wardrobe. I also spent time with my mom and dad and Elmo and I felt good. It is possible to go home again and it is a wonderful place when you need it.

Sometime that day I also sent an email, somewhere, that would not be acknowledged until over two months later.

The week of August 10 I felt like life had delivered me a gift basket. Questions were answered, kudos were given, I had an appearance in the newspaper and I got a phone call.

On the Monday I got an email from a guy I had contacted way back in July. On Canada Day Joanna and I drove up to Gimli to visit Judy. While hanging out on the beach I noticed a group of people, various ages, wearing bright orange t-shirts hanging around a fenced off section of the beach. Many of them had cameras and binoculars. I had no idea what they were looking at but one of them caught my eye. Later in the day he was sitting by the fence alone. Judy, Joanna and I had just finished some divine tasting pizza and were walking along the beach. I pointed out my mark to Judy who then decided we would go pay him a visit.

The orange t-shirt dude was monitoring four tiny birds called piping plovers. They migrate to the area every year from Mexico and mate. They are so small though that they are at risk of being stepped on or picked up by a dog while they nest on the beach. Since they are endangered, the Manitoba government has a program to monitor the birds and educate the public about them. This is what Orange Shirt told us. He lent me his binoculars to take a look for myself.

"We are not leaving here until you get his phone number," Judy whispered to me while Orange Shirt chatted with a man and his granddaughter.

I cringed. I wasn't feeling with it that day. I looked good and I had had a great day with Judy and Joanna, but I was having a shy moment for some reason.

I started talking to Orange Shirt though. Somehow I started talking about writing and always being on the lookout for a good story. Somehow he gave me an informative postcard with a plover on the front and somehow (the details are all very fuzzy to me, it was either the wine from dinner or I am trying to repress the uncomfortable details of the whole event) he ended up writing his email address on the back of the card for me.

I emailed him on July 2. I’m not sure if I was more proud of the email as a clever and funny piece of writing, or the fact that I was actually asking this guy for a date. I had doubts about the whole thing since he had only given me his email address, not a number, and it was his work email. I showed the note to Judy who said it was so brilliant, if the guy didn’t acknowledge it, he was a bum.

As I said though, his response came over a month later. By this time I had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing. He opened by apologizing for taking so long to respond and explained that he hadn't checked that particular email account until then (as I figured, he was spending his working days on the beach and not in the office). While he did find my email funny, he let me know that he had a girlfriend and therefore would have to decline on my invite to meet up. No date, but my well-crafted note was successful in making him laugh.

On the Tuesday Michael let me know that he was very happy with all my work so far. I had been working on his team for six months already. Six. That meant I only had seven left to go before I had to return to my old job. Not if I could help it, of course.

On Wednesday Joanna and I were walking in the Village at lunch. We were on our way back to the office, Starbucks refreshments in hand, crossing the Osborne bridge. There was a truck parked in the curb lane and some guy was repairing the case that held the life preserver. On the other side of him was a guy with a notebook and a mini digital recorder.

"I'm a reporter for the Winnipeg Sun,”he said. “Can I ask you guys a few questions?"

"Yeah sure," Joanna and I said.

"See this poster here?" he gestured to the one taped to the lamp post. "Do you recognize that guy in the bottom left corner?"

"Oh, it's that beheading guy, Li," I said. It was an image of Vince Li, the man who stabbed and beheaded Tim McLean on a Greyhound bus last summer. Underneath the photo was the caption, "Good People!" The poster was supposed to be for an event, "Summer of Lees" happening in September at a bar in the village.

"It's that beheading guy, yeah," the reporter said and asked us what we thought of the poster.

The next day my quotes were in the paper.

"Page three!" I said to Michael. "If this were the New York Post that would be like three pages away from being on Page Six!" Yes, I was quite proud to once again see my name in print. I am Jill Public.

On Friday Michael was in my cube and we were talking about something. Probably the weekend and his upcoming vacation. He was about to head back to his desk when I said, "Wait!"

He turned around.

I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped onto the seat of my chair."I have an interview." I opened one eye.

"Oh geeze. You're not supposed to be doing that yet. When is it?"

I opened the other eye but maintained my braced position. "Tuesday," I said. They had called me on Wednesday. It had taken them over two months from the closing date for the applications but they were quite apologetic about it all.

"Alright, so now I have to find someone to take you out on Monday night and get you drunk," Michael joked.

Monday I got the email from Orange Shirt Guy, Tuesday I got my glowing six-month performance report, Wednesday I got a call for an interview and Thursday I had my name in print. There were no over-ripe and bruised bananas in this gift basket from Fate. Too bad she was all out of fresh guys though.