A Job for the "Jobless" (Newest Update on N.!)

You know what job I hate most?
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You might think stripping because of my (and Jesus') moral opposition, or debt collectors because of their shady practices, but no. Today, the job I despise the most is the Walmart greeter.
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"Why?" you ask... Let me tell you...
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After finally finding a parking spot somewhere in the paved acre, I gather my keys, purse, and lists and walk 35 miles across the lot. I live in the Midwest - so I've potentially braved sleet, snow, wind, rain, sunburns, and frostbite at this point. I'm flustered as I relocate my list, and enter the doors of Walmart. You'd think I would be home-free at this point, but nooooooo... The fun is just beginning as I gaze upon a sea of metal carts. I typically take a moment to reevaluate my list at this point;
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"Could I get by with a basket?"
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"How essential is toilet bowl cleaner?"
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"Could I leave _________ off the list in order to avoid using a cart?"
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I inevitably have wasted my time and quite a bit of my daily allotment of brain power when I surrender to the fact that I. need. a. cart.
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I spend some time in prayer, asking the good Lord to guide me to His anointed cart, but then Satan reminds me that he has caused 40% of the sea of carts to be stuck together. Now, I believe that Jesus overcomes, but He must be testing my faith, because I always grab a cart that is permanently affixed to another.
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Finally, I stumble upon a cart that can be isolated; I dump my purse into the germy kid bucket, and I begin to walk through the Walmart doors.
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And then I notice something.
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I grabbed a cart with a wayward wheel.
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Lord, have mercy.
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Because I'm determined not to return to the sea of carts, I shift my entire body weight and exert all my effort to make this cart follow a straight line.
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About that time, I come to the Walmart greeter.
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And here is why I hate their job:
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I've just braved the weather (potentially sleet, snow, wind, rain, sunburns, and frostbite), lassoed a cart (only to find it defective) and exposed my purse to every transmittable disease known to man, and now someone wants to smile at me and wish me a "good day"?! For real?!
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Honestly, what good is the Walmart greeter anyway?
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I have friends. If I wanted to exchange pleasantries and maybe even make a short comment on the weather, I'd have brought a friend along on my shopping trip.
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And what's up with the fact that they just stand there?! Did they not see me drowning in the sea of inseparable carts 30 seconds earlier?
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I think it could potentially be world-changing if the greeter had to separate the carts and have them prepared and ready before patrons entered the giant glass doors of Walmart. I mean, not world-changing, like, solve-world-hunger, but world-changing, like I'd-hate-life-less-at-that-very-moment.
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Now, I know that the almighty Walmart greeter also has the responsibility of putting stickers on your items to be returned, but the other day, the greeter was occupied (someone else actually DID want to talk about the weather) so I made a beeline straight to the customer service counter. And you know what?! They didn't even care that I hadn't received a sticker upon arrival in their store!!!
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Really, all this to say (I knew you were wondering if there was a point...), if the Walmart greeters have such a cushy and disposable job, I'd like to hire them to work for me for a day. I could use an assistant...
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We received a phone call on Tuesday, letting us know that our lawyers were able to secure an earlier court date for N.'s custody hearing.
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YAY!!!!
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Our court date is now January 16 at 11:00 A.M. (Bulgarian time).
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Upon receiving this news, Chance and I were understandably very excited. We did some celebrating until we realized that we had MORE paperwork to finish.  And it had to be done that day.  That. day.
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Now, I am not and never have been (and probably never will be) employed by Walmart.
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I actually have a sometimes very busy schedule.
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So after appointments all this week, I have been finishing paperwork, being fingerprinted (yet again...), and spending even more time at the Secretary of State's office (they've come to love me there...)
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If only I could take the Walmart greeter home with me after my shopping, he/she could have done some of this paperwork.  He/she could have spent the time in the post office or the Secretary of State's office (because, let's face it - they don't love me THAT much).
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But, no...  I spent my week running around frantic while the Walmart greeters around the world smiled at disheveled and crazed customers and wished them a "good day."
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Soon (like very soon, potentially by Valentines Day!!) though, my hard work will pay off as our beautiful boy steps off a plane in Chicago and recognizes his Mama waiting for him.
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Go on and greet, Walmart workers.  My son is coming home soon.

Dear N.,

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