I still can't get over those fucking flip-flops

Here I am, searching for a job, applying all the advice that Stacy London and Clinton Kelly have ever dished out on WNTW, consulting with a headhunter-type about whether tassel-shoes are appropriate for women in the workforce (answer: tassel-shoes are only appropriate for court jesters), and agonizing over finding a completer piece (i.e. jacket or cardigan) that doesn't give me heatstroke in these 110 degree heat indices.

Here I am, consulting with a head-hunter type over how to answer questions like "What is your greatest weakness?" (answer: "an area of development for me lately has been..."), pulling up all those tidbits gleaned from Dr. Hinck's markting class, remaining very body-conscious during interviews (cross legs at ankles, not knees; no large hand gsturing, etc), and frying my ends in an effort to keep the grey roots hidden.

Here I am, struggling with details like fit, color/texture/pattern/shine, ladylike bag, plain folder to hold my resume, not smelling of smoke or too much Pi by Givenchy, and lint-rolling dog hair off my pants.

Here I am, doing everything right, and I am getting passed up for job after job.

Here I am, doing everything right, and I am seeing candidates show up to interviews wearing fucking flip-flops. I am seeing candidates show up for interviews wearing jeans and dress sandals.

I am not doubting my fashion sense. That only lasted a moment.

What I am doing is freaking out over student loans, wondering what the fuck I am going to do when old age sets in and I have no retirement fund, and struggling with the knowledge that the job market still sucks so there is no quick fix.

I mean, when flip-flops are considered acceptable for a goddamn job interview, maybe Sunshine is on to something. Maybe we should just drop off the grid and go live off the land.

Y'all think I'm joking. I ain't. I've been watching House Hunters International, seeing how much house $125K gets you in Spain.

I seriously don't know what is wrong with the world.

Fucking flip-flops.

It makes me grateful that we just paid off another loan. We just put another $300 a month in our pockets. We just reduced the amount of gross receipts we need each month. It means that much less we have to worry about.

Which leaves me plenty of time to fret over fucking flip-flops.

Here I am, debating the wisdom of wearing red trousers to a job interview (answer: only if you are applying for a job at McDonalds, filling in for Ronald), wondering if my make-up is too plain, and hoping like hell my face doesn't erupt because I forgot to read a label and consumed something containing citric acid.

Here I am, making sure that my nails are neatly polished, my armpits are very shaved, my mascara isn't clumpy, and being extra-careful to make sure that the word FUCK doesn't escape my mouth during an interview. (hey, this is a valid concern for someone who honestly had a drug court treatment plan that said "I will not use the word motherfucker in any variation in group therapy sessions.")

Here I am, spending hours on end looking through job postings, having moments of self-doubt about whether the four-figure jackets are unintentionally sabotaging me because they make me look too ladies-who-serve-on-charitable-boards, and hoping that Sunshine's new business venture takes off quickly so that I can just take on more hours working for him.

And people are wearing flip-flops to job interviews because receptionists are wearing flip-flops to work.

What the fuck?

Fucking flip-flops. I give up. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Now where can I find me some fancy flip-flops?

bahahahahahaha, just kidding.

Although, perhaps it is time to revise my strategy. Perhaps I should go talk to some of these more exclusive boutiques in the area, boutiques that do NOT sell flip-flops, see if they're hiring seasonal help. Because it's becoming obvious that the bar is otherwise set very low around here, and as my headhunter friend says, any place that doesn't hire me because I am dressed too nicely is a bullshit place to work, and as Sunshine says, anyplace that doesn't hire me because I am dressed too beautifully is stupid.

But seriously, y'all, fucking flip-flops?