There I was in the most uncomfotable pair of high-heeled shoes, wearing formals (did I ever tell you how much I hate formals?) and walking along the streets of Phiadelphia.
No, not really. That just sounded really neat. So, anyway, I was walking in the scorching heat to get to the office where I had to be interviewed. Now, since it's the first time I'm running around for work and giving interviews, I'm just never sure if I'm appropriately dressed for the part. Ever felt that way? Well, yeah, so, I never really know if I'm under-dressed, over-dressed or perfectly-dressed for an interview.
And needless to say, this day was no exception. I was wearing a lavender colored shirt and a pair of cream trousers. And of course, the oh-so-uncomfotable black high-heeled shoes. Now, that according to me is formal and apt for an interview. And I'm sure a lot of people would agree with that. And even if they don't, I really, really think they're not picturing it right.
So...I got to the building and took the elevator up to the office. When I walked upto the receptionist to ask for the gentleman with whom I was to meet, I realized I might've been a little over-dressed. Sitting behind the desk was a plump-going-on-fat lady (only my initial impression of her), dressed in a black top that could only be called 'formal' if off shoulder has somehow entered this genre. She asked me to take a seat in the waiting area. The waiting area was to her left and, as luck would have it, every other seat was occupied, except of course the one which gave me a perfect view of...well, her.
For an incredibly long time I kept staring at my feet (which hurt like hell), at everyone else's feet (it's atually quite a lot of fun to check out other people's footwear), at the wall which had a board holding a few clippings of news paper articles about the company. After a while (they made me wait for close to 2 hours) I really had no where else to look except at the receptionist. And that, lemme tell you, was no joy! After my initial scrutiny of her, I realized that she wasn't plump-going-on-fa but more like fat-going-on-fattER.
I thought seeing her front profile was bad, but then I saw her side profile. And almost gagged. Her hair was, actually, quite nice compared to the rest of the package. Of course, there was the over-done face that we just cannot leave unmentioned. The color on them eyelids...wow! That's the only word that pops up, I swear. The earings were much too bold for my taste, but then, I understand that that's a personal opinion.
I realized a little later that there was a lot more to the off shoulder black top than what met the eye initially. As she sat there at her desk, I saw the full extremes of her outfit. The black top merrily rode itself up her waist, leaving an ugly, disgusting tyre in public view. And if that wasn't enough, she decided to reach for her something in her purse which was kept underneath her desk. Now, i'm sure you can imagine the kind of effect that must've had on her already short top. The wrinkles!!! Oh GOD, them darn wrinkled tyres!!! They should sue her for public damange. I couldn't sleep that entire night.
I sat there scandalized, wondering if I'd have to go through this ordeal everyday were I to be recruited. And the worst of it all was that she was diabetically sweet. I mean, reeeeeeeeeeally sweet. She was talking to me like I was the last person on earth and that she'd die alone if I refused to talk to her! I was having a tough time trying to hate her. And she wasn't like this with me alone. This was her general way of talking. I mean, she talked this way with everyone who was waiting with me.
When I finally walked out of the office after my interview was over and done with, I waved her goodbye, went down the elevator, straight onto the street and called for a cab. Once inside, I took of my utterly painful sandals and swore to myself never to put my feet through so much trouble when an office hosts people like 'her'. Amen.