As you learned in a previous entry, I am currently unemployed. And although I wish this blissful state could continue forever, the sad truth is that I'm going to have to start making some money soon in order to begin paying off my suddenly massive credit card debt.
More than likely, this means that I will have to get a job. Now, I realize that there are very few jobs to be had right now, but if there's one thing I've always been able to do, it's to secure a suburban office job in unstable economic times.
Right now, the one thing that could probably prevent me from finding such a job is my pathetic corporate wardrobe. I recently went through my closet, desperately seeking anything that could pass for a respectable "interview outfit." I found a seven-year-old suit from Banana Republic that used to seem flattering, and now makes me look squat, butch, and humorless. I found a black corduroy blazer that looks stupid no matter what it's paired with. And I found numerous pairs of ill-fitting "work pants" that look like what they are--fading, thinning purchases from the Unique thrift store in Columbia Heights.
So despite the fact that I have absolutely no money to spare, it became clear to me that I would have to go out and find some idiotic work-appropriate clothing.
Just to torture myself, I waited until a day that I was painfully hungover to head out to the overwhelming giant mall. I didn't think it could be too bad--I simply needed to find something that could pass for "professional" in an office park.
I started at Express, a store that I am embarrassed to enter (due to my advanced age, dark hair, and lack of make-up) but that happens to sell pants that have fit me well in the past. I tried on about six pairs, several shirts, and one seemingly "basic" black blazer. Despite the fact that the pant hems at this store were the perfect length in the past, now, all the pants I tried on were at least three inches too long. I'm too cheap and lazy to get stuff hemmed, so this was a major problem.
The shirts were okay, but they were all about $60, which seems kind of expensive for some cheap cotton blend button-up from China. And the blazer was absurd--despite the fact that I have no rack, the lapels pressed suggestively against my cleavage. Clearly, this was a "sexy blazer"--a garment some blond in the warehouse district is meant to be spilling out of, not a fake-work jacket for a subdued corporate writer.
Disappointed, I trudged out of the store and into a hallway filled with kiosk vendors. Most of them seemed to be hawking cuticle cream or hair-styling devices. "Ma'am, style your hair?" asks one gentleman, suggestively brandishing a thin-barreled, pointy-ended curling iron.
A bit further down the hall, I noticed another kiosk vendor. I could tell he had spotted me already. It was the kind of situation where you know, instinctively, that they guy is going to be aggressive and obnoxious--the kind of guy who won't take no for an answer. So I continued on my way, and then at the last possible second darted over to the other side of the hall to get away from him.
Unfortunately, he followed me. "Excuse me miss, may I ask you a question?" I looked right at him. "I came over here to avoid you," I told him. He looked annoyed, and then sarcastically told me I could "have a great day." I was surprised how naturally the snotty retort came to me--usually I feel bad for people who work in retail and go out of my way to be nice. The atmosphere of the mall was clearly turning me into a Type A chick. Maybe I should've gone back to the Express at that point.
But I continued on, determined to find something that would make me look like a normal job seeker. I entered many stores, tried on many suits that made me look like a 12-year-old going as a "business woman" for Halloween, and eventually just gave up. There was nothing there for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment