Introduction

When your heart gets broken, you can either stick around and suffer through it, or get yourself gone. Alyson Mead decided to move from New York to Los Angeles to take a job as a phone psychic after a bad breakup. But as she struggles so accept her gift, while dispensing love advice to daily callers, her own dating life proves to be less than glamorous. Searching for Sassy tells the true story of how a professional psychic healed her heart and got back on track, while learning to claim, appreciate, and develop her gifts. It's a rare and humorous behind-the-scenes look into this billion-dollar industry, in a way few have ever seen. Mead's path to healing may have been different than most. But this book is for anyone who's ever felt a little different, and maybe a tad challenged in the love department.

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Excerpt

How did I get here? Who is responsible?
These are some, but not all, of the questions I ask myself as I
park my stuff at a desk that defines nondescript, its beige prefab contours
blending seamlessly into the slightly darker beige (yet fully carpeted)
walls of my new home‹a cubicle at AstralPlanet. I am just thirty, in full
possession of my faculties, with an advanced degree from an ivy-beset
eastern university. I am fit, attractive, vibrant and alive. A little
hungry, but I noticed a taco truck on my way in. Maybe it will still be
there when I get my first break.
What am I doing at a psychic line? Long story.
New York City, my former home, had begun to close in like those
spiky death walls in Batman, in the weeks following my breakup with Lonny.
Five years is a long time to spend with someone so clearly not interested in
a long-term future. But that¹s fodder for some future rant. Note to self:
never again form or maintain a long-term relationship involving shared
friends. In the all-too-real event of your demise as a couple, these poor
souls will have to choose. And unless you want to spend all or most of your
time lobbying them for support, you will most likely be the one who loses
out.
Speaking of walls closing in, I¹m doing my best to listen as my
new boss takes me through the rules of the job. His name is Martin. He¹s
tall and dark, with feathered hair and a decidedly Baby Boomer attitude. He
oozes enlightened masculinity in a Peter Coyote kind of way, touching my arm
repeatedly as he illustrates how to operate the phones, how to transfer
information to the call sheets we¹re given.
³Your phone will ring when one of the managers sends you a
reading. You¹ll pick up, preferably on one ring, two at the most, and state
your name.²
I look at him doubtfully. The breakup has made me gun-shy, but
he doesn¹t have to know that.
³You can make up a name, if you like. Lots of readers have a
psychic name they use.²
³OK.²
³Anyway, you¹ll get their name and date of birth, which goes
here . . . from that, you can tell if they¹re old enough to be on the call.
If you get anyone younger than 18, tell them they have to get permission
from a parent or guardian to have a reading.²
I must be looking fuzzy, because he asks, ³Am I going too fast?²
Not that it¹s beyond my comprehension. But all I can smell is
incense, and hear the whirring of the copier right outside the door. The
incense is something dark and cloying, and makes me a little swoony.
³No, I¹m fine,² I say.
³All right, then. The most important thing to remember is this:
they¹ll have one question they want to ask. But your job is to keep them on
the phone, so you¹ll want to ask them, ŒWhat else can I answer for you
today,¹ or ŒDo you want me to look more deeply into that¹ . . . something
along those lines.²
³You want me to keep them on the phone?² Oh silly girl.
³You¹re being paid a base salary, per hour, but your salary
includes an additional ten cents for every minute you can keep a caller on
the line. There is a caveat, though.²
³What¹s that?²
³As a rule, you don¹t want to go past twenty minutes, so keep an
eye on the clock.² Here, he indicates it, as if I¹m a three-year old. Der, a
clock.
³Twenty minutes,² I say, noting it on a pad.
³We¹ve found that if a reading goes over twenty minutes, people
tend to complain to the phone company.²
I smile weakly at him. Time has never been my strong suit.
He touches my arm again, soft as a rubber hammer, and gives me a
smile. ³You¹re going to be great,² he says.
When he leaves the room, the phones start ringing again. A
coincidence? I don¹t know yet.
... view entire excerpt...

Discussion Questions

1. Have you ever felt you a strong intuitive hit, or do you know someone
who has "the gift"?
2. Alyson finds it difficult to accept the fact that she's psychic for
much of the book. Have you ever had a talent or ability that you found
difficult to claim?
3. Some people believe in psychics while other people don't. Has your
feeling changed one way or the other after reading Searching for Sassy?
4. Alyson also goes through a series of ridiculous dates as she tries to
get back on her feet romantically. What's the worst date you've ever been
on?

Weblinks

»	Visit author Alyson Mead's web site
»	Visit the Sassy Psychic

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