“..The interviewer struck me as solid and reassuring.
It could have been his business-like blue blazer, distinguished grey hair and kindly smile that did it.
Or it could have his crisp, no-nonsense introduction.
“My name is Keith,” he said, shaking my hand.
“My spirit guide’s name is Blue Star. He’s on the intergalactic committee.”
I felt less nervous immediately.
I’d applied for a job as a fortune teller at the New Age shop where Keith worked.
A music student, I was chronically broke, thanks to the cost of books, music lessons, post-rehearsal drinks and the occasional packet of ciggies.
A flexible job at The Orb, a lovely old heritage Victorian terrace house, sounded just the thing.
It was such a beautiful shop.
The ground floor was all sandstone walls and cabinets, filled with crystals and pewter dragons that gleamed in the dim lights.
Little pyramids of soap and boxes of incense lay about, adding their scent to the perfumed candles on the counter..
.. where Keith manned the old fashioned till.
Towards the back of the shop was a wooden staircase, with a sign saying ‘This Way to the Orbe’.
“This is Ruth!” said Keith with a flourish, turning to the woman who had just come down the stairs.
My real name is Fenella, but I chose to use the name Ruth, my middle name.
It made me feel tougher .. and more psychic.
Also, I thought it a clever way to fool the tax people, should they ever raid the shop.
Moira didn’t seem impressed.
The owner of The Orb, she was an attractive woman in her late 30s with clear skin, clear eyes ..
.. and the habit of gazing into the distance for long stretches between sentences.
She looked through me as I presented my credentials: a familiarity with the tarot pack, a stint at a spiritualist church, and a string of friends who swore by my predictions.
“I’m having a dinner for all the psychics,” Moira said at last. “I want to see how everybody’s energies mesh.”
And she wafted back upstairs.
The house where we gathered the next week had trendy lighting and polished floorboards.
Keith sat at one end of the rough-hewn dining table, his silver hair and natty blue blazer making him look like a banker.
Jade, a glossy black-haired woman in her 40s, sat next to me, her silk scarf wrapped expensively around her shoulders.
In between performing spiritual duties, she cut hair for a living, and looked as though she prospered at it.
Opposite her was Gabriella, a giggly heap of beads and frizzy hair, who swore she was gypsy-descended.
And next to me was faraway Moira.
Then there was me, the youngest by at least ten years, longhaired and with lipstick a shade too red.
Everyone was pleasant enough, but it was awkward .. because we were a group of strangers without much to say to each other.
Fortunately, a higher power stepped in.
“Greetings,” said the spirit guide Blue Star, issuing from Keith’s mouth.
“It is wonderful to welcome you here tonight.”
Blue Star’s high-pitched accent suggested he’d dropped in via India, Romania ..
.. and somewhere in New Zealand..”
go to source/story>>How I got a job as a fortune teller - MadamRuth - Open Salon