Colliding Worlds

I'm rather glad that some elements of my life rarely interact. My dream group friends don't meet my work mates. My gym buddies don't have anything to do with my old friends. My drinking buddies have nothing to do with anybody. It's just the way life is. Small groups of discrete people with whom I spend my time.

I love my friends, but for most of them, I socialise with them in their own groups. Some friends are blended into a few groups - and some friends know about the other groups and get an introduction. Others don't. So people like Blarney, Alice and Jonella I've known through work, they're also in book group and I know that I can mix them around. Others, I tend to socialise on their own. It's just easier.

So yesterday, I was a bit taken aback when worlds came bashing into each other with the force of a ten tonne truck.

Yesterday I had my tarot reader hat on. This is something that comes on every so often - even better when I'm between jobs as it helps pay for the incidentals like personal training and theatre tickets and the odd evening out. It's not steady income, but once or twice a month, I get the call from the company who hires me out, we discuss times, dates and people and bookings are made. You never know who you're going to be reading for at these events  - though you will always be given a rough count of the people you'll be reading for and the type of event you'll be at - which for me is normally hen's parties and the odd corporate do.

Throwing on my 'tarot' reader garb - a long black skirt, black, boots, a stripy jumper and understated make up, I made my way into town. They used to ask me to dress up for these events - make myself look like a fortune teller. Thing is, I read better when I'm comfortable - and dressed up like a circus freak really doesn't make me feel relaxed. Thankfully, as I've taken on the business from another set of people, I get a say in what I wear and I don't dress up now - the best I do is modified Goth. At a push - a big push, with some extra money thrown in for the humiliation.

Tramming to the city, I made it to the apartment hotel complex on time. I called the number I was given and the mother of the bride came down to collect me. On the way up to the room, I explained that I was the entertainment - think of me as the stripper. She had a chuckle at that. I told her to be very thankful that I wasn't stripping. That's not a very pretty sight at all.

It appears that hen's days are getting a lot more civilised. It depends on the bride, the maid of honour and the crowd. This crowd appeared down to earth and educated. No strippers here. Just me for the afternoon reading cards for the dozen or so guests, then out to dinner and maybe some clubbing after. The mother of the bride told me all about this - she also said that she was interested in what I did and could she have my card. (Note to self, get on Vistaprint and have some of these made up - I've been meaning to do this for ages.)

Walking in the door, I had a chat with the person who booked me - who was thrilled I had turned up on time and she led me into the living room of the rented apartment to give my schpeil - a standard few lines that I was there to give short readings, that I only told positive and happy things and that if they pulled the Death Card that they weren't going to die - they might die, but in forty or fifty years. 

From somewhere on the couch I heard a,"I know you!"

She did?

"Hey, I know you. You're psycho-cardio-chick!"

Eh. I looked at the owner of the voice. A long haired, middle aged woman was smiling at me.

Ah.

"And you're psycho-weights-girl."

"Yep!"

"Oh my goodness, I didn't recognise you out of you training gear!" we said simultaneously.

It appeared I'd ended up at a hen's party for one of the personal trainers at the city gym I go to before work a few mornings a week. Psycho-weights-girl, also known as Sharon, is one of the personal trainers. We're forever running into each other in the gym change rooms at 8.30 in the morning, in various states of dress, ablutions and breathlessness. She refers to me as psycho-cardio-chick because she can't fathom why anybody would  want to run for more than half an hour. She's known as psycho-weights-girl for similar reasons. If we run into each other at the gym, we will have a quick chat - been doing that for over a year.

A strange coincidence. 

After finishing my introductions, the readings went off without a hitch. One of the better hen's parties I've done - a lovely group of women without the normal personalities you get at hen's parties - normally being the resentful sister, the teary or jealous bridesmaid, the token gay male and of course, Nanna. These readings spoke of happiness and good changes and loving life. Such a great energy to be around. I left the job two hours later, energised, though a bit over talking.

I'm still a bit flummoxed that I ended up with a group of people who've seen me at the gym, red-faced, panting and often in various states of undress. 

Still, it just goes to show how small the world is becoming. This is the second time in a few months that I've ran into somebody I know while on a tarot job.

I just hope it doesn't happen any more frequently.