The Closed-Toed World

I graduated from college with a BA in English believing that I was on top of the world. I was anxious to become successful and finally make the big bucks. I bought a couple of suits, and a truckload of shoes to match the suits, to begin my quest for the perfect job. Nothing could stop me or bring me down, as I thought that I was bound to find and be accepted for the best of the best position that Western Pennsylvania had to offer me. Though I had tons of sales experience, I decided that I would be miserable in sales and tried to stay away from any retail position.

My first interview was for a service writer position for a tire company. I wore my black suit and new sexy black sandals because it was warm and nearly summer and believed they looked great. The manager asked, “Why are you interested in this position, Holly?” To which I replied, “Well, I need to get out of sales and am very interested in writing.” He looked dumbfounded. “You know this is a sales position, right?” No. No I didn’t, thanks. I was pissed. I felt that they had fooled me into believing the position had something to do with writing. I mean, why in the hell did they call it a service writer if it had nothing to do with writing? I walked out, passing the man in the wool suit waiting (sweating) for his interview in the lobby, and decided to only apply to copyediting positions.

“SO you don’t have any experience in copyediting?” How can I get around this one? “No. No I don’t. All that I can tell you is that I read with a pen in my hand to correct, but mostly to find great quotes that I wish I had thought of.” They hate me. They all hate me. I said, “Listen, I may not have any professional experience, but I know how this works. It just isn’t real to me yet.” They never called back. I felt like screaming, “You are all idiots! I am intelligent and I can do anything that you need me to do! How can you pass me up?” But I didn’t. I took it to heart and decided that I wasn’t as smart as I had thought. On every interview I had, I felt like the dumb girl with the open toed shoes. Who the hell cares if my toes are showing? What does that have to do with my ability to work well? It’s not like I didn’t look everywhere for cute closed toed shoes. They don’t exist. The shoes that I need don’t exist for my black suit. I don’t want to feel like a man in my suit. I want to feel like an intelligent, sexy woman with awe-inspiring shoes.