It’s not easy selling anything door to door, much less framed wholesale artwork, even more less as a relatively naive 19-year-old girl. But fate laughed and let my gaze fall on a wanted ad back in 2007, and I followed suit, tripping over the door frame as I went in for my interview at the Art Place one April afternoon to see how I could make $400-$500 a week.   

Like most traumatic experiences in my life, the following took place at a lower-end grocery store — you know, one that has a distinct smell, offers minimal fresh produce and lacks a cute organic aisle. I went to pick up ingredients for a nice dinner while my boyfriend cleaned and did the dishes at home. He suggested steak, so I ventured to the meat department with much bewilderment; I’m more of a seafood gal. As I pensively compared tenderloin to T-bone, a nearby stranger said something to me I didn’t quite catch.