Two years ago, about a few months before I closed my store, the Oregonian did a front page piece on me in the business section. It had a huge picture of me with my kids behind the counter ringing up customers (in lieu of hiring any additional staff with such a limited budget). A sweetheart reporter showed up and shadowed me for three days and decided that my personal story was much more interesting than the "shop local because Mom and Pop businesses are struggling" story that I originally pitched in an email. The article drew lots of attention. Most of it was people walking into my store where they had free access to tell me they felt sorry for me. The worst of it was when I was standing on line for a port-a-potty at a concert and after ten minutes of waiting the gal in front of me turned around and said "I'm really sorry about your store". The gal in front of her said "me too" and that's when I realized that I had lost my anonymity. I felt like the biggest-loser-micro-celebrity in Portland. I had my fifteen minutes of fame and it was for failing to keep a plucky retro-modern general store above ground while using child labor to save on babysitting and retail help.

The most exciting thing to come out of that article was that I received an unsolicited email from Wieden+Kennedy. Someone there read the article and they wanted to see my portfolio. The article mentioned that I had been quite the accomplished graphic designer prior to opening "Hello." I had designed invitations for numerous celebrities like Steven Spielberg, Rosanne and Bruce Willis (to name a few) and somehow I parlayed that into redesigning reuters.com in 2002. Frankly, I made so much money in 2002 that I am still making tax payments to the IRS. It was fucking awesome. And someone at Wieden+Kennedy wanted to see farther up my skirt.

So in the middle of closing my business, I took 72 consecutive hours off from life to organize my portfolio and redesign my resume. I finished it at 3 am the morning before I promised to deliver it and I even made a clever airport hang tag for my briefcase that looked something like an old school airport luggage tag and included a checklist of my talents, mentioning that I made the freaking thing at 3 am and was therefore a workaholic (which I am) and creatively indispensable. I printed my resume on a faux-yellow pad with custom illustrations of stamps and put on a retro clip board for them to keep. The next day I walked up the stairs to the Mecca of Portland Cool and meekly handed my portfolio to the receptionist.

You can only imagine the fantasies that were running through my head. I imagined that the four years of sacrifice at the store and the big move to Portland was finally going to pay off. I was going to enter the ranks of the uber hip, my secret decoder ring was in the mail! I was ready to dress exactly like that busty redhead on Madmen, line my cubicle in my 500+ designer vinyl toys and attend private Decemberists concerts. Most importantly, I was going to be the most prolific art director in the history of advertising because I can write! I have imagination up the kazoo! I'm funny! I couldn't wait to casually tell my new boss that I had once made it to the third year of the Groundlings... somehow explaining that my improvisation skills were what made me so quick-witted and funny! In my mind I was PERFECT FOR ADVERTISING, perhaps over-qualified! I owned a cool store and knew all about cool shit. I was the only forty year-old Mom in Portland with a wicked mash-up collection. I wasn't a flaky twenty year-old either. My breeding days were over and I had already proven I would throw my children under the bus in a millisecond for the right job, hadn't I? WHERE ELSE COULD YOU FIND A DESIGNER WITH THIS MUCH PERSONALITY?

It's easy to guess where this is headed. After about a month of daydreaming I finally got up the nerve to ask for my portfolio back. Later I received an email to the extent of "Your portfolio is impressive but outdated, keep us updated on your progress." Admittedly, this was two years ago and my Run Like A Girl portfolio was a little outdated but I couldn't believe they didn't even want to meet the scrappy gal behind the story that had caught their attention. I didn't even have the opportunity to seduce them with my funny self-deprecating jokes, my witty comebacks, my topical anecdotes! They had cut me off at the knees because I didn't get to use my secret power: I have never NOT gotten a job after someone met me. Filled with a mild brew of piss and vinegar I almost couldn't resist writing back:"OF COURSE IT'S OUTDATED, YOU JUST READ A PATHETIC ARTICLE ABOUT ME SLAVING AWAY AT MY RETAIL STORE FOR MAGIC BEANS FOR FOUR YEARS! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU EXPECT?"  But I didn't write that email. Later, a creative consultant suggested that they purposely made me spin my wheels just to check me out, I doubt it was that thoughtful. It was just a case of "odd girl gets a second glance from the Quarterback at the prom and temporarily loses her mind," that's all. On a funnier note, I did have the thought of parking a hotdog cart in front of their office with a sign that read: "Logos, $1000, Websites $2500! I'll beat any price at Wieden+Kennedy and I need less swag to do it!" That was really fun to think about too.

What I did end up doing was sneaking into Wieden+Kennedy last night with my husband  to see a free concert. Funny I brought Scott, he's usually a pretty grumpy date but we walked through the halls giggling in amazement, hoping no one would realize we weren't supposed to be there. What got us in trouble were the snacks. Their offices were something like Microsoft circa 1992. There was free food and candy everywhere and Scott and I were so amazed that we really couldn't stop ourselves from taking some. I was fond of the caramel cremes and milk duds. Scott was stuffing his pants with energy bars for the kid's lunches. It got so out of hand we decided to run out the back door only to be tempted by overflowing boxes of Moosemix which we promptly took as well. But we weren't going to miss the concert. Wieden+Kennedy had a big parking lot that looked up at the office building and people were laying blankets on the ground to get ready for the concert. We were laying down and laughing and I suddenly had the great idea to run home and blog about our adventure and the history behind it. And then the shitake mushrooms hit the fan. Jason Bateman (a.k.a. Dan Wieden) was on a huge monitor looking at us and we slowly became aware that almost everyone had us pegged for the posers we were. We ran home only to find more fashionable Portland executives rifling through our house for anything else we might have pilfered. We were still nonchalant, we had little to hide. But the tenor of the entire evening changed when a very well groomed Anne Heche came out of my home office looking very disappointed. She appreciated my tenacity and had indeed rethought her decision to discard my portfolio so imprudently last year, but this fiasco put the nail in my coffin. (It must have been the Moosemix.) Plus my clothes were from Old Navy. I was somewhat embarrassed, mostly about my clothes, but I wasn't naked and I hadn't gotten caught picking my nose or anything. In fact I was more interested in her stunningly handsome assistant who was exactly like the guy in the new Old Spice commercials.

And then I woke up. That's what my BFF from the eighth grade and I used to say to each other. I'd say "Hey Sarah, I made out with Rick Springfield last night!" or "Hey Sarah, I think my Dad might pay for college" and then she'd say "and then you woke up?" And when I did wake up I was so disappointed that it WAS a dream that I had to take a massive "brain dump." I just couldn't hold it in! I had to go straight to the computer to write about it while I was still in my sleepy ambien-esque haze and it still seemed funny and meaningful.

I know where this bizarre dream came from. Yesterday I was working on a promotional email to send out to the 1500 people who signed up to receive emails from my old store. "If you loved Hello Portland, you'll love Run Like a Girl Design". And I spent an inordinately long time looking for the original email from Wieden+Kennedy so I could, per their request, keep them updated on how fabulous (and current) I have actually become! I never found that email but I guess it haunted me. The teaspoon of "piss and vinegar" is gone, their loss, but I guess the need for affirmation and a decent job is still there. Oh yeah, and I guess I think that guy in the old spice commercial is pretty hot. 

P.S. It's just a freaking coincidence that Wieden+Kennedy created those marvelous Old Spice commercials. Go figure, I could have been the gal to hand him a dry towel after every take.

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