On Saturday, the first day of the art festival, the shuttle bus stopped near my booth. My booth was all the way at the end (or beginning?) of a long line of booths. 190 artists, after all. The bus drop off at the entrance near me keeps traffic flowing. I sell more art on Saturday than I sold during the entire festival last year.
Last year, my booth wasn’t second to last of the long line of booths. Last year, my booth was off to the side, down this offshoot of five booths. I chatted with the artists next to me about how to get people off the main drag. I told myself not to feel slighted. Somebody had to be there, and we were near the music and food.
On Sunday, this year, the city makes the festival stop shuttle drop offs at the entrance near me. I don’t hear why, but I feel the effect. Traffic crawls. Many people give up that long walk and turn around several booths earlier. On Saturday, I sold my first piece at 11am. Sunday, I sell nothing until 4pm. The festival closes at 6. Every person who walks into my booth, I say, “I really want to thank you for making it down this far!”
I tell myself not to feel slighted. Somebody has to be at the end of the line. And I was selected to be in the festival. That’s no small thing. And I did sell more art than last year. Not a lot more, but more. And I talked to a lot of interesting people. Not one single person was rude.
It seems that no matter how much success you have, you always want more. Whatever it is that you imagine right now as success, if that imagining came true, do you think you really would be satisfied?