The squealing wheels of the oversized hand truck are the first harbinger that my new appliances have arrived.  Owing to HH Gregg’s willingness to sell me four brand new kitchen appliances while not charging me any interest for the next two years, I have taken the plunge and gone stainless.

The decision has left some friends barely able to continue our friendship, so unwise have I proven to be by making it.  I don’t even have the guts to tell my father, the strict Jewish fiscal conservative. Those who have gone unemployed before me have advised me, strenuously, to conserve every penny, and do without in the grandest way possible. It’s become almost a badge of honor to be impossibly frugal these days; conspicuous consumption is so 2006.

I thank my friends for their concern and good counsel, but I have a plan. You see, I’ve lost my job, and suspect that, ultimately, I will find another one.  Oddly, miraculously even, I am unconcerned about that (OK, my six months of severance may have smoothed over some of those worries). But I also suspect that I won’t be earning anything near the salary I’ve just lost, and will likely, therefore, not be able to afford my house much longer. So it appears I need to prepare it to sell, and that’s where the sparkling new kitchen appliances come in.  I can understand feeling alarmed about such a large purchase when my income stream has dried up, but it’s a means to an end.

I share my story with one of the installers, Frank, and it doesn’t take long before he realizes the significance of the risk I’ve taken.  “You’ve put your faith in God, that’s what you’ve done,” Frank tells me.  The smile on his face almost convinces me that he is an angel.  Was that a twinkle I saw in his eye as he looked at me like a proud papa lion approving of his cub?

Slowly, I complete the transfer of all my food into the gleaming silver behemoth in the corner of my kitchen.  It feels right. I stand back and take in all this shiny new metal, so pleased and not the least bit worried about how I’m going to pay for all of it.  For the first time in my life, I am putting my next act and my faith in the universe to ensure that I land softly and well.

Just don’t tell my father.

Randy Foster is a confused communications professional who was recently laid off from her job of 22 years, and thus unemployed for the first time in 34 years. She has no earthly idea what she wants to do with the rest of her life, but figured things can't get any riskier, so what the hell. Randy is also the single mother of a very high maintenance teen-aged daughter who remains the greatest risk of all.
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