The flower Hunt

I decided to go to Home Depot to clear my mind from all the job rejections, ghosting, and the endless “We’ve decided to move forward with other candidates” emails. You know, the ones that read like a gentle breakup text from someone who claims they still “value our time together.”

If you read my last story, you know I was half-expecting to run into an ICE agent who’d pull up in a white van and say, “Congratulations! You’re hired. Get in.” At this point, I’d accept almost anything: a job as a potted plant, a decorative rock, or a part-time garden gnome.

This time, I had a mission: to find some flowers to plant. I thought, “How hard can it be? Just grab some flowers and head home.”

Oh, sweet summer child.

Walking into Home Depot’s garden section is like entering a labyrinth designed by a bored Greek god on a Red Bull binge. I got lost somewhere between the petunias and the organic kale starters. Every aisle screamed, “Look at me! I’m low maintenance and drought tolerant!” — I haven’t heard that much desperate self-promotion since my last round of LinkedIn updates.

There were rows upon rows of options. Hydrangeas that needed more emotional support than me after my third rejection email of the week. Succulents that basically screamed, “I thrive on neglect!” (Hey, maybe we’re kindred spirits after all.) And then there were the orchids — so delicate and complicated they could star in a Netflix limited series titled Petals and Passive Aggression: The Orchid Chronicles.

I found myself reading each plant tag like a dating profile. “Loves partial sun, hates wet feet, enjoys long walks in well-drained soil.” Some wanted “full sun only” — a bit high-maintenance, but at least they’re upfront. Others needed “regular misting” and whispered affirmations. Honestly, at this point, a cactus was looking like the most emotionally stable option.

At one point, an employee spotted me frozen in the middle of an aisle, staring blankly at a hanging fern. He approached cautiously, probably assuming I was lost or on the verge of a breakdown (both true). “Can I help you find something?” he asked gently, as if addressing a confused toddler.

I wanted to scream, “Yes! Can you help me find my purpose? My dignity? A recruiter who actually calls back?!” But instead, I just mumbled, “I’m looking for… a flower.”

That’s when I realized: going to Home Depot to find a flower is basically a full-time job. You have to compare colors, soil types, sun requirements, pot sizes, and price tags. You need to make a five-year plan for its survival, do a SWOT analysis, and probably check if it aligns with your core values.

After two hours and three existential crises later, I finally settled on a marigold. Bright, cheerful, and impossible to kill — my spirit animal in flower form. As I stood in line with my single marigold, I imagined the cashier asking, “Is this all for today?” and me replying, “Yes, it’s for my emotional support garden. Also, do you guys do on-site interviews for lost souls?”

Walking out, I felt a weird sense of accomplishment. Sure, I might not have a job yet. Sure, recruiters may be ignoring me like I’m a free sample tray at a vegan cheese convention. But at least today, I chose life — and life chose marigold.

So here’s to all of us wandering the aisles of life (and Home Depot), trying to find something to root us. May we all bloom where we’re planted — even if it’s in a plastic pot from aisle 17, right next to the overpriced ceramic gnomes.