My temp agency has landed me a sweet gig ushering and handing out clipboards for $10/hr at a motivational seminar on Monday. I have to dress "Business Professional," which is a genre of attire that is not currently represented in my closet. So tomorrow I will go shopping and spend more on the clothes than I am likely to make from the job. For justification, I look to Clinton of TLC's What Not To Wear, who says "If you’ve got rotten teeth, you don’t just bleach them to make them look better. You fix them. If your wardrobe is rotten, you can’t just throw on a cute shoe and think it’s going to work. Throw out the garbage and start replacing it with pieces that work." I'm not sure how to feel about the dental metaphor, but my wardrobe is rotten. And you know what they say: You've got to spend money to make money. The clothes make the (wo)man. Dress for success. Dress for the job you want, not the job you have (Which is why I'm sitting at the computer in my astronaut helmet, balancing the alien harpoon on my knees. Just in case.)
Unfortunately, I've always thought that people of my height (or lack thereof: 5'0") look ridiculous in business suits. Should I tuck my lilliputian mits into the double breast of my fitted dark neutral blazer and declare myself emperor of the French? Should I march up and down the corporate halls, drunk on the clacking power of my Naturalizer 2-inch heels? Honestly, striped coveralls, cowlicks and lollipop sceptres seem more appropriate. And more fun.
I am, however, quite excited about the prospect of working a motivational seminar featuring the likes of Colin Powell, Zig Ziglar, Suze Orman and Terry Bradshaw. Motivation has been a real problem for me since graduation. Maybe I'll learn something. Also, I love Terry Bradshaw. I've seen Smokey and the Bandit II, like, a kazillion times. If that guy can't give me the key to unlock my future, no one can.