Do people even wear suits to work anymore? I don’t even know and honestly, I don’t want that kind of job, which I shouldn’t even be saying because I am not really in a position to be picky. I’ve always had to take what’s offered and be happy about it.
I think I just gave away the entire plot.
But yes. I had an in-person interview! This is good!
But it was at a bank.
I have been wearing jeans and t-shirts to work for the past few years and before that, it was business casual.
So I didn’t even know what to wear. My friend L, who is a senior VP at a bank in Chicago, wears suits to work.
I don’t even own any suits anymore.
What to wear to an interview at a place where people might be wearing suits?
I posed the question on Facebook and was instructed to wear a suit (which I do not own) and then was instructed to buy a suit (which I do not want).
I was also advised to wear leopardo, which, in retrospect, I could have. I have a great skirt of leopardo and I could have worn it with my black jacket and a black t-shirt. Hindsight.
I tried on dresses and skirts and stuff doesn’t fit or it didn’t look right. I finally settled on a black jacket and a black skirt, even though they were not the same black and it was completely obvious that they were not the same black but I figured that once I was sitting, my interviewer would forget my fashion crimes.
It was half an hour until I needed to leave the house. Too early to get dressed. Why?
There is no resting in work clothes, especially black ones, in a house with cats.
Which meant I had to stay in my robe.
Which would be fine except the doorbell rang.
Which – is not what I was expecting.
Mr T had just stepped out of the shower.
As in, he was nekkid.
I was in my robe.
Normally, I would ignore the doorbell, as it’s usually someone trying to sell me something (like lawn chemicals, which clearly I am not interested in – our lawn looks very unfertilized and un-weed controlled, which is BY DESIGN – I do not want to put chemicals into the lake) or to talk to me about a political candidate, which I get enough of that from Mr T.
But Mr T said, ” The tuckpointing guy is coming today!”
Getting our mortar repaired has been on the list since we bought the house 12 years ago. Mr T had found a contractor and arranged a time. Only the only information he had gotten three days ago was, “Sometime on Friday.”
One of us had to answer the door.
And I just re-read the headline of this post and realized it makes it sound like the tuckpointing guy was also not dressed!
No! HE WAS FULLY DRESSED!
Neither Mr T nor I were clothed. I mean, I was in a robe, but Mr T was nekkid. Of those options, the person in the robe has to answer the door.
Which was – so awkward.
I opened the door, explained Mr T would be out in a second, and closed it.
Mr T got dressed and ran outside. A few minutes later, as I was getting dressed, he came back in, announcing he needed to figure out something about the telephone line, which was going to be in the way of the tuckpointing guy, and could they move it or whatever, and all I heard was, “I am embarking on an engineering project that will take a lot of time and I will not be ready to drive you to the interview.”
(He was going to drive me because I didn’t know what the parking situation was – this was downtown – and I wanted to arrive unrattled and on time.)
And then we were arguing because we were both super stressed because a lot was riding on this interview and you know, Life.
Fortunately, Mr T is a whiz with engineering problems, though, and he resolved the phone line thing and we got in the car only ten minutes after I wanted to leave but I still arrived 15 minutes early to the interview. In the waiting room was a woman having a very loud, very personal conversation along the lines of, “And then he called me a B-I-T-C-H and I told him no, I am not having that and I will go to court to stop the adoption.”
Which – in ordinary circumstances?
I would have sat next to her and started taking notes, because how can you not want to know what happens next with an opening like that?
But I needed to stay in a good frame of mind and I also thought, “What if she is the hiring manager? I can’t eavesdrop on the hiring manager!”
So I started pacing the halls, stopping to examine the beautiful black and white photos of Milwaukee while still trying to listen.
The hiring manager came out – not the phone lady – and she was wearing jeans, as was everyone else I saw, which was a huge relief, because #NoSuits.
And we talked and I think it was OK. She was great. I could be very happy working for her.
Then Mr T and I went home and the tuckpointing guy was grinding out the bad mortar, which was making an awful noise and casting dust everywhere, including under the back door, and I sent texts to our neighbors apologizing for the noise, and when the tuckpointing guy finally left at dusk, I took to bed with a cold.