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Fluffy
Julia Kent
Chapter One
Wanted: Professional fluffer for set. Experience required (no amateurs)! North Shore area. Immediate work, potential for more. 4 hours this week, cash paid at end of workday. Email or call.
Well, that’s vague, but promising. I live north of Boston. I haven’t heard the term fluffer used for house staging in a long time… maybe this is an older real estate agent?
A “set,” huh? I know the industry is moving toward video to help drive sales. I’m a stager who used to work for Tolleson Properties, one of the biggest real estate brokerages in my area. I staged houses, model homes, and sometimes office space, until the owners decided to sell and retire.
Things with the new owner didn’t exactly work out, but I don’t want to think about that DEA raid.
My last day was exactly twenty-nine weeks ago.
How do I know it was exactly twenty-nine weeks ago?
Because this is week thirty, and my last unemployment check should hit my account today. After that, it’s all downhill.
And by “downhill,” I mean I have to move back in with my mom and dad.
Immediate work sounds good, based on my bank balance and pending eviction. I send a quick reply.
To the Hiring Professional,
My name is Mallory Monahan, and I am writing to inquire about the professional fluffer position. I have six years of experience with staging and props, and am in search of freelance work that will use my expertise to draw out your best assets and help them rise to their fullest potential. My unique style never fails to set the right mood to bring your star properties to a happy ending. Clients tell me I have a special touch.
Please reply if you would like more information from me.
Sincerely,
Mallory
I learned a while ago not to bother with a resume when you make the first inquiry. Too many spam filters, too many HR people not bothering. A brief, upbeat email is best, confident and businesslike.
I scan the rest of the ads. Ten-dollar-an-hour administrative assistant jobs. Lots of “Make $5,000 a month in your spare time” ads, which basically means the people placing the ads make $5,000 a month from suckers who sign up.
Call center jobs. Accounting and finance positions that are way out of my league. Fashion model come-ons. Medical testing for research studies. Can you really get paid $6,000 to live in a hospital and do nothing but sleep for seventeen days? If so, sign me up.
A lot of house-cleaning jobs, and licensed real estate agent positions, but nothing else for decorating, designing, or staging.
But hey–one job listing is better than none.
A quick look at my email tells me everything I need to know about my life. My bank balance is under the limit for free checking so an $18 fee is being assessed, according to my bank, putting me into negative-dollar territory. I have three spam emails from Nigerian princes offering to marry me or to save my life if I will transfer cash immediately. Two internet marketers want to sell me How to Find the Perfect Husband systems for the low price of $79 (Receive a free self-care pampering gift basket when you enroll in our annual plan! Includes skin cream guaranteed to make you look less desperate!). One egg donor registry is offering me the chance to pump myself full of hormones, cry for five days, and have my eggs harvested from my ovaries.
It’s like they know.
They know I’ll never be able to use them.
But that’s not the worst email in my inbox.
Oh, not by a long shot.
This one is:
REMINDER: HARMONY HILLS HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF 2009 REUNION! OUR FIRST DECADE!
Huh. Suddenly that egg-donor thing is looking less painful. Even Nigerian princes have more promise. Could I get someone to pay me $6,000 a month to sleep in a lab with a Nigerian prince who extracts my eggs? Because I would totally do that before I’d ever go to my high school reunion.
