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Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Blessings of Being an Instacart Shopper by Andrea

Blessings of Being an Instacart Shopper

After a few days of my daughter coming home saying things like “I made $70 in two hours!” and “Today I got a $30 tip!”, I declared, I could spare a couple of hours a few times per week to make some extra money.  I want my house painted and I want new furniture and I want to add more money to my savings accounts!  She shared her referral code with me.  I applied and within a couple hours, I was an independent full service contractor with Instacart.  After a few days, I was on the job.  After three shifts and six hours on the clock, I had only made $33.  I tried to continue with a happy attitude, positive self-talk (it takes time to make money, to work out the kinks and learn how to do this well).  Then I met a hill, a third floor apartment with two cases of Topo Chico and a 8-count package of Bounty Paper Towels.  By the end of the my two hour shift and burning 800 calories in two deliveries, I had blown my on-time metrics, made about $20 and was absolutely OVER Instacart.  At work the next day, I mentioned this to a colleague who also works for the delivery service.  She encouraged me not to give up, to give it more than a week.  She shared that there is in fact much money to be made on Instacart.  She averages $25-35 per hour she said.  And for some reason, I decided to trust her and give it a go once again. She shared a couple of tips.  So I adjusted my techniques (if you ever decide to work for Instacart, talk to me first I’ve got some hacks for you) and went back out again.  By my fifth shift, I was hooked.  And it was not the money, though that started to add up, too.  I enjoyed the service.  My customers turned the whole deal around for me.

I started that shift picking up 30+ packages for three customers.  The first of whom opened the door standing alongside a huge barking dog, making the 30 pound bag of dog food in my trunk seem too small to satisfy that guy for very long.  The customer was youngish. I told him it would take me a couple more trips to get all of his packages to his second floor apartment.  He offered to come down to help.  We got to chatting while unloading his groceries, with me remarking how cool it is to have your packages delivered and not having to spend an hour in the grocery store with the lines and traffic.  He remarked, “Yes it is, especially when you don’t have a car.  Imagine carrying a 50 pound bag of dog food on the bus!”  Instant gratification for me to know that I was helping someone who really did need me. 

My second delivery landed me at another apartment complex (I detest apartment complexes.  I want to know who thought it would be a great idea to label the buildings at angles which are impossible to see and to number them out of order!).  This time, my customer was waiting for me at  her door.  She wore a housedress and slippers, though it was early afternoon.  I greeted her by exclaiming, “Hello!  Your groceries are here!”  She smiled and stepped back a little as I came up the steps.  At first she said I could put the packages right inside her door, but I realized she was moving rather slowly and with great effort.  I told her I could take them inside and put them wherever she needed them to go to make it easier for her to unload.  She let out a breath and said “Oh, thank you so much!”  She watched as I hauled the bags in, making space in her small kitchen to put them down.  She commented, “You’ve got to be in shape to do this job.”  This, too, is an unexpected benefit of working for Instacart.  I burn a lot of calories climbing apartment stairs and carrying heavy loads of groceries.  She apologized for the disorganization in her kitchen then explained that she had just gotten out of the hospital!  She said the groceries were priority one, then laundry and eventually she would get around to cleaning.  After a couple more casual exchanges about my work and her health, we parted ways and I was so much better for having served her in this small, yet important way. Feeling light on my feet and a flutter in my heart, I headed over to my third and final delivery of that batch. 

Another apartment complex.  Luckily, this customer, like the last, was an older citizen who lived on the bottom floor.  I found the building and correct door fairly quickly.  On one shoulder I carried an Ikea cargo bag filled with HEB grocery bags, on the other a Costco keep cool storage bag with milk among other refrigerated items and a case of water in my hands.  Like I said, I get to burn a lot of calories!   As I made it close to the entryway of the apartment, I noticed a gentleman sitting out front.  As soon as I greeted him and made my way through a small opening leading up to his door, I could see he was a double amputee sitting in a wheelchair.  My heart quickened and filled with joy at my fortune of being sent to another soul in need of service.  We talked briefly about where to put the groceries.  He needed me to line them up in the kitchen in a way that would allow him to maneuver his wheelchair as he put the packages away.  Well, there were more packages than space so I called out to ask if I could begin in another area.  A voice answered from behind me and I looked to see another person confined to bed by an oxygen tank softly humming next to her.  I practically floated out of their home after I said my goodbyes. 
 
You see, I prayed a few things about my work with Instacart.  One, I prayed that I would be able to have a lot of fun and that the time I would be taking away from my home or family a couple hours a day, a few times a week, would not be in vain.  That if this was not going to be profitable, at first I was thinking financially, then let me figure that out quickly.  I prayed, too, that I would meet great people along the way and that if even just for a few moments, I could bring light into someone else’s day.  I prayed to see all sorts of people and for my heart and hands to be open to them. 

After my shift the next day, I sent my co-worker a text with a million thank-yous for encouraging me to stick with it.  I had, in fact, made a ton of money.  But my eyes, ears and heart were opened in ways that money could never buy nor replace.  I got a cash bonus on my first real week working Instacart.  It is called a five-star bonus and is given to the shoppers who are ranked in the top 25% for customer satisfaction ratings.  I cheered and cried when I got it, again not because of the money, but because it meant that I had provided my customers with the very things I had prayed. 

My only wish, other than apartment complexes doing better with their numbering, lighting and ordering systems, is that I could see the same customers each week.  I have only highlighted three here but in the weeks I have been serving in this way, I met a man who gave me a packet of morning glory seeds, a lesson on how to plant them and an admonishment to join him in spreading joy all around central Texas by passing on the first harvest of seeds from my flowers then he gave me a big hug and a God Bless.  He told me he liked my smile and my spirit.  I’d give anything to see him again.  I liked his smile and his spirit, too.  I have helped elderly ladies put away items they couldn’t reach and saved a mom the agony of getting off work, and facing the parking lot that is Ranch to Market Road 620 at rush hour to get water bottles and gatorade for a soccer game the next morning.  I had the pleasure of delivering to an elderly, visually impaired customer placing her first order on Instacart.  She was so proud and so was I.  It may sound crazy because my first job as an educator is one that brings me so much joy, but I would work Instacart all day if I could.  I am worn out at the end of a shift- carrying groceries up flights of stairs while on a timed delivery system is my Camp Gladiator- but the joy in my heart is worth every sore muscle and shin.  “Do work you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”  As a teacher and an Instacart shopper, I am doubly blessed in the world of work.


Monday, May 21, 2018

Stages

No one told me about this stage in life.  The one where your heart kind of swells with pride, practically explodes with love, and then also breaks slowly all at the same time.  No one talks about that. The stage when your children start moving from the “Mom, hug me! Hold me!” Stage, to the “I need my space.”

When I first got pregnant, I heard all about the morning sickness possibilities.  I was given advice about making sure to walk a lot and the right things to eat and foods to avoid.  So I prepared and I planned. Finally the moment comes and I am given this absolutely perfect baby in my arms.  My life before that moment was completely forgotten. Nothing else mattered looking into those eyes.


The advice follows me with the birth of my babes.   A longer list of do’s and don'ts. With every stage of the younger years, terrible two’s, potty training, starting school, I heard advice.  Everyone had opinions, and in a way it made me feel better because it helped navigate my uncharted ocean. I could always see land, so I was grounded even when the seas got rocky.  No one told me though, about the letting go bit. No one told me about what to do when my kids start growing up and maybe don’t need me quite as much as they used to. No one warned me about that mix of emotions.  The hurt for myself, excitement for them and pride in them. Maybe because it’s different for everyone. Or maybe because it’s truly hard to explain all the emotion or give advice for this stage. You just have to experience it.  

The closing of the school year, floods our facebook pages with graduation caps and gowns.  Faces of proud mommas and daddy’s, and hope in the eyes of their children. Little ones moving from the pond of elementary school diving into a new place with much bigger fish.  Lots of firsts come with the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. As a parent, it’s blessing to be a part of every stage. It’s been an even bigger blessing to have a team of people stand by you when any amount of words or advice doesn’t really help.

As my son enters high school next year, and my daughter middle school, I feel a mixture of emotions.  These are uncharted waters. I no longer truly control the direction of the boat. I now have two co-captains with opinions and dreams, and they to want to sail their own boat.  They have their own path to explore and conquer. I will be okay to sail beside them. Maybe even sometimes behind them. I have no other choice. They know I will be there when they need me, just like I know I have people to pick me up when I’m struggling, or a friendly ear for listening.  The sea is too big to handle alone after all.




~Esmeralda



Sunday, May 13, 2018

Remembering My Mother by Carolyn

If you are blessed enough to have a mother still living, I hope you realize (and let her know) what a precious gift she is. If you are estranged from your mother, please reach out to her - tomorrow is not guaranteed for any of us. If your mother has passed away, I hope your heart is full of wonderful memories and the assurance of the love she had for you. If you were not blessed with a beautiful, loving relationship with your mother, I hope you will make it a priority to forgive and to become the best possible mother (or father, or grandmother, or grandfather, or aunt, or uncle, or whatever) to someone in need of your special touch. Everyone should have that kind of love in their lives.

My mother was incredible: strong, independent, funny, thoughtful, and generous. She was the middle child of seven siblings who were raised on little money and lots of hard work, but likewise lots of affection. Her father was a rancher, her mother a housewife. She attended a small-town "business school", where she studied secretarial skills such as typing and shorthand, and met my father, who was studying bookkeeping there. 

She had two children, my older sister and me. In that era most mothers did not work outside of the home. My mother did. She worked as a clerk in government offices for many years, eventually rising in the ranks through her own hard work and dedication. In spite of working outside the home, she still kept the house and cooked and grocery shopped and everything else women were/are expected to do. I have an idea that our home was immaculate, but that may not really have been true. I do know that for many years she vacuumed the house every day, and always had dinner on the table by 6:00. Even though we didn't have much money, she made sure that my sister and I were enrolled in dance lessons, or piano lessons, or whatever we were interested in exploring. Looking back, I realize now what a sacrifice it must have been for her to save enough money to provide us those opportunities, although I took it for granted then. 

My parents divorced when I was about eleven, which was quite unusual for the time. I know she was very unhappy about the situation, but she never showed her sadness to us. She suffered silently to protect us from the unpleasantness. Shortly after that, she needed to move us to Dallas to pursue a job opportunity. My sister and I were horrible to her about that move - at our ages (maybe 12 and 14?) we only saw situations by how they affected us, and we were devastated to have to leave our friends. Mom took all of our abuse with dignity and strength. 

Mom was universally loved by my friends. When I was a teenager, our house was the cool place to hang out. My friends gathered there regularly, attracted by Mom's easy-going attitude and friendliness. It probably helped that she was single and dating at that time, which made her seem really cool to a bunch of teenagers. She treated them with kindness and consideration.

She used to tell us, "I will trust you until you give me a reason not to." and, "I will say 'yes' to you whenever I can, because there will be so many times I will have to say 'no' to you." She showed great wisdom and reflection and generosity. Sometimes parents go too far one way or the other - too much a dictator or too much a friend. Mom treated us with respect, but also set boundaries for us. She treated us as real people, worthy of her respect, and she expected respect from us as well.

Although she had no college education herself (nor did anyone in our family), Mom always encouraged my sister and me to follow whatever our dreams for our future might be. It was always assumed that we would go to college. I never felt any limitation on what my mother thought I could do or become. She made me believe that I could do whatever I decided to do with my life. I know that she was very proud when I graduated from college and when I earned a Masters degree. But she did tell me, "I don't want to hear you complain about how little you earn as a teacher - you knew that when you entered the profession!" 

Mom had some physical problems that led to her being retired because of disability by the age of 40. Through her ever-present pain and limited mobility, she smiled and laughed and enjoyed her life. I vividly remember a conversation we had driving back from an extended-family Christmas gathering. She said, "If I had my life to live over again, I wouldn't change a thing." I was incredulous. An arduous childhood, a troubled  and failed marriage, years of pain and limited mobility, always limited money, yet she was grateful for all of it. It made her a strong and tender woman.

When I was 26, with an almost-two-year-old toddler and very pregnant with my second child, my mother unexpectedly passed away. She was only 50. For over 30 years now, I have missed her hugs, her love, her sage advice. I have missed her advice as I have raised my own children and gone through my own ups and downs in life. My children have missed the opportunity to have such a loving, generous woman as their grandmother. And now my grandchildren are missing the chance to be loved by a sweet, funny, quirky great-grandmother. More times than I can count, I have ached to ask her opinion or seek her counsel or have her just listen as I poured out my heart. I haven't been able to do that, so I have done the best I could without her (with lots of help from my sister and my friends). I hope she would be proud of the mother and grandmother I have become. I know without a doubt that she would adore my children and grandchildren. She had so much love to give.

I miss her terribly, but I am so grateful that I had her in my life.