HARDLY WORKING….

Standard

I’ve recently been made ‘redundant’, in the actual corporate sense of the word. Well, the Superbigcorporatechainstore I worked for has gone bankrupt, so, it’s, you know, nothing personal. Still, this requires me to look for something new. And brings up that dreaded spectre I had thought I had left behind with plastic butterfly clips and a valid drivers’ license….JOB INTERVIEW.
My natural mode of being has been set to “Gen X scruff” for the last seven years and the whole stockings/skirt/jacket long gone. There’s perhaps one plain black knee-length skirt in my wardrobe, for really hot weather, when it’s just too much for jeans. But stockings? Shoes that aren’t cheap converse ripoffs bought from Big W? A jacket? Not an anorak or parker or hoodie or even the sentimental, busted-up leather bikerstyle? This…is unfathomable.
The hair can be dealt with (dyed a conservative, tasteful dark red to cover the cherry-bomb fluro bits. And, then, possibly wrangled into some kind of up-do.) Nails can have the chipped, gothic polish removed, and possibly painted a sweet, peach faux-french-manicure. Makeup is easy as pie. But the clothes! The shoes!
I’m kinda proud of my bravery this morning. The lady I spoke to explained that they would have to see interviewees on an informal, to-and-fro basis, as there were only two staff members and they were seeing job candidates between customers. I took a deep breath and dredged up some Aries power. Told her that, just having left a jeans-everyday workplace, I could come and speak to her…in jeans. But of course, this isn’t how I would normally present to an interview and of course I would be at home in an posh, art-gallery lady environment and of course, you can tell by my professional phonespeak that I’m normally the poncho, pantsuits and big, hideous earrings type.
Oh, Rabbit, you LIAR. Please, let me get this job, but please, also let me get a job at a university bookstore, where I am easily mistaken for a staff member in my normal Ramones-girl attire. I honestly don’t think I could do the stockings every day thing again. I might end up strangling myself with them.

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