How I Ended Up Checking Marjorie Orr’s Virgo Forecast
You know, I didn’t even want to look at a horoscope, man. I was against it, always have been. The whole idea felt like cheating, like letting some random words decide whether I should hit ‘send’ on a deal that could either make or break my week. But let me tell you, when you’re cornered, you’ll start checking the spiritual weather report just to feel like you’re doing something different. I needed a sign, and I needed it fast.
This whole thing started because I got absolutely hammered on a project I thought was a sure thing last month. My gut told me to wait three days before finalizing the contract on this vintage record collection I was trying to flip, but I charged ahead. Why? Because the guy selling it was pressuring me, saying three other buyers were lining up. I panicked. I skipped the details, wired the cash, and what happened? The box showed up, and three of the most valuable LPs were completely cracked. Not just scratched, cracked. I lost about five grand and spent two weeks trying to get it back, which never happened. My pride took a worse beating than my wallet, honestly.
I felt like an idiot. I’d been in this game ten years, and a rookie mistake like that just shouldn’t happen. This week, I had a chance to salvage things with a new client—a major one, the kind that changes your bank balance for a quarter. But the same sick feeling was bubbling up. I was second-guessing every email I typed, every word I spoke on the phone. I kept asking myself: Am I missing the crack in the vinyl this time, too? My decision-making was totally shot, a complete mess. I was sitting here, staring at the screen, paralyzed.
The Moment I Hit Search
I remembered my cousin, who’s a total space-case Virgo, always ranting about this Marjorie Orr. Said she was the only one who ever made sense. I laughed it off at the time. Today, I wasn’t laughing. Today, I was typing. I literally dropped my pen, grabbed the phone—the battery had just gone from 2% to 10% after sitting on the charger for a minute—and I searched. It wasn’t about belief; it was about getting a second opinion from the absolute furthest, weirdest corner possible to break my mental block. I searched for “Marjorie Orr Virgo Daily Horoscope.” I needed to know what the universe thought of my current paralysis.
I scrolled past the noise and landed on today’s forecast. I didn’t read the whole thing at first. I just scanned for verbs—action words, warning signs, anything that related to my current dilemma of “send the damn email or wait.”
What I pulled out of the text was basically three key things. I wrote them down on a sticky note because, well, I’m a blogger, I document everything, even the crazy stuff:
- Strong warning on “misdirected communication.” The forecast stressed that what you think you’re sending isn’t what the other person is going to be receiving.
- A specific timing note: A window of opportunity would open “after the midpoint of the day.” I mentally clocked this as 1 PM or 2 PM.
- A harsh focus on “revisiting the initial draft.” It basically told me to go back and check the tiny stuff.
The Practice and The Result
This was it. I didn’t care about the star signs; I cared about the action plan. I already had the critical email to the new client drafted. It was firm, maybe a little aggressive, and laid out my terms clearly. Based on the forecast’s warning about “misdirected communication,” I decided to just shut down the computer. I physically got up and left the room. I wasn’t going to send it before the “midpoint,” period.
I didn’t even look back at the email until 2:30 PM. I sat down, and before hitting send, I went back to the third point: “revisiting the initial draft.” I re-read the entire draft again, line by line, the way I should have checked those scratched LPs last month. It was okay, but something still felt off. I went into the attachment, the detailed proposal sheet, which I had just quickly scanned earlier.
Boom. There it was.
A formula error. A simple Excel mistake I had made when calculating the final projected profit margin for them. It was off by nearly 8%. If I had sent that email with the aggressive tone and the wrong numbers, they would have torn it apart instantly, and I would have looked incompetent, confirming every bad decision I’d made lately. It would have been the cracked vinyl all over again. I fixed the error, changed the tone of the email to be much softer and more collaborative, and finally hit send at 3:05 PM, well after the “midpoint of the day.”
Ten minutes later, I got a reply. It was warm, positive, and they accepted the offer. They didn’t even mention the numbers. I realized the forecast hadn’t made the deal, but it forced me to slow down. It forced me to check the draft, and that one tiny error, which I caught only because I followed a ridiculous piece of advice from an astrology column I don’t believe in, would have completely tanked me. I walked away from the desk feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The practice log for today: Marjorie Orr’s Virgo forecast—even accidentally—stopped me from screwing up a five-figure deal over a spreadsheet error. I’ll take it.
