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Damned Doppelgangers
Oct. 1st, 2012 02:22 pmThis morning, I was scheduled to meet with a potential studio sharer, and she'd called when I was on my way over, to say she was waiting in the coffee shop upstairs. So, I went in to catch her and show her to my studio.
When I got to the coffee shop, I tried to figure out who I was looking for, when a lady looked up from her table and asked me if I was Sarah. I said Yes, and she said, "I thought I remembered your hair being shorter," and invited me to grab myself a coffee. (I figured she must've looked at the bio page on my web site, and the photo taken when my hair was shorter) She also mentioned that she'd just talked to another person at the coffee shop, who was also waiting for a Sarah.
I grabbed my coffee, and she invited me to sit down, which seemed a little strange, but eh, maybe she wanted to chat for a minute before seeing the space? So, I sat down, and she launched into her pre-interview schpiel for some job, and involving something with kale chips. When I blinked in confusion, we realized I wasn't the Sarah she was looking for--I was the Sarah the other person was looking for.
Now, it's not shocking that there's another Sarah who was scheduled to be in my studio's 'hood this morning, because, well, there are eleventy-billion Sarahs. I *am* a bit boggled, however, that there's another Sarah, somewhere in Portland, who actually looks enough like me that her interviewer was all ready to give me her job.
Ah, the hazards of being a Sarah, folks.
When I got to the coffee shop, I tried to figure out who I was looking for, when a lady looked up from her table and asked me if I was Sarah. I said Yes, and she said, "I thought I remembered your hair being shorter," and invited me to grab myself a coffee. (I figured she must've looked at the bio page on my web site, and the photo taken when my hair was shorter) She also mentioned that she'd just talked to another person at the coffee shop, who was also waiting for a Sarah.
I grabbed my coffee, and she invited me to sit down, which seemed a little strange, but eh, maybe she wanted to chat for a minute before seeing the space? So, I sat down, and she launched into her pre-interview schpiel for some job, and involving something with kale chips. When I blinked in confusion, we realized I wasn't the Sarah she was looking for--I was the Sarah the other person was looking for.
Now, it's not shocking that there's another Sarah who was scheduled to be in my studio's 'hood this morning, because, well, there are eleventy-billion Sarahs. I *am* a bit boggled, however, that there's another Sarah, somewhere in Portland, who actually looks enough like me that her interviewer was all ready to give me her job.
Ah, the hazards of being a Sarah, folks.
