In early 2019, I found myself needing something I hadn’t had in a long time: a part-time job. For more than a decade, I’d worked as a freelance writer. It hardly made me rich. But I counted it a blessing to work from home doing something I enjoyed, until a major illness kept me from working at all for most of 2018, while generating new bills. Now my health was restored, but my finances were sick. I was a 51-year-old man in need of a gig. So I went to the mall.
At the executive offices of one of the large department stores at a mall in Plano, the hiring manager told me the store needed sales associates. But there was also another option I might consider: security.
It was a plainclothes position, behind the scenes, monitoring video from cameras spread around the store like far-flung eyes. I would communicate with uniformed security guards, store management, and mall and even local police about theft, customer injuries, active shooters, and the like.
“You’re the traffic director,” he said.
I didn’t play hard to get.