April 2, 2025
Written by: Hannah Field | Editor-in-Chief
Surefire Design has been in business in downtown Albany for at least 20 years. Despite this, many don’t know it exists, even in the heart of town. They walk past it on Saturday nights out, on the way to church early Sunday and spot it from the coffee shop across the street — wholly unaware of what they’re missing out on.
I joined the team three years ago, leading up to my high school graduation. It was the first job I ever got. I lacked experience, expertise and honestly, craft; painting was not my forte by any means. But I was 17, broke and desperate for purpose. Everyone I knew had a plan in place. I hadn’t prepped for college, hadn’t known what I wanted to do with my life, had no leftover friends and a dreaded home life — but I could have this job.
It was never just a weekend thing or teenage gig to me.
When I hated going home, I’d take extra care to sweep and make sure the tables were spotless. I’d check the windowsills for dust and organize the back — take my time, make it last. I would not always be so lucky.
There was a day over the summer when one of my coworkers called out last minute, leaving the shop dark and door locked. I had gotten into a nasty fight at home, leaving me to feel so unaligned and unwanted that all I could think to do was drive to work. I flipped the open signs, prepped the tables and manned the counter. It was grounding.
My first year in college was isolating and dead quiet. I lived off-campus and couldn’t make nor keep any connections with my peers. But at the shop, certain customers lingered longer at the counter so we could chat, some families knowing me by name. I remember the regulars, lost to the revolving door of life, and the times children offered me birthday cupcakes from their special day.
Before I turned 20, I was offered the position of studio manager. I took it without a second thought — originally unaware that this little pottery painting shop would cement itself into my character and build me as a worker, as a leader and person. That it would make my gloomy days a little bit more colorful, that I could find some semblance of peace at the front desk. That I could grow so close to my coworkers and customers.
I’ve been lucky enough to weave my own presence in the studio. I painted the counter pink and it’s my voice on the shop phone voicemail. I’m in a state of constant reinvention and renovation of myself and of Surefire Design, and it has been so fulfilling to work somewhere I love.
And, no, we’re not currently hiring. But we’re always accepting resumes.
Contact the author at howleditorinchief@wou.edu
