One of the good things about my old job was that the office was very small - 5 lawyers, 10 people total - and, for a law firm, pretty relaxed. I couldn't come in in jeans and a t-shirt, but I didn't have to wear a suit, or a jacket and slacks, unless I was going to be in court or meeting with a new client. All other days, I could get away with khakis and a collared shirt, or a sweater when it was cold or whatever.
The firm I'm going to work at now is still pretty small and the people I spoke with there during the interview seem pretty cool, but every attorney was wearing a suit or jacket and tie, and even the support staff was dressed for, y'know, "success." Also, at this job, I'll be appearing in court a lot more and doing a lot more hands-on lawyerly type stuff - depositions, etc. - that require "lawyerly" dress.
So off I went to buy some new suits.
And thus I journeyed back to, oh, about...9 years old?
I hate trying on clothes. See, the good thing about most clothes (and when I say "most clothes," I'm talking about most of my clothes, consisting of hundreds of t-shirts, several pairs of jeans and shorts and some sweatshirts) is that I know right away if they'll fit. Pair of jeans or khakis? Just look at the numbers. If the pants say __ X __ (yeah, like I'm gonna put my waistline and stumpy leg measurements out here for everyone to see), I know I'm good to go. All I have to do with a t-shirt or sweatshirt is look at the label. 2 letters? Ring it up, baby.
But not with suits and jackets, my friends. Oh no, they. must. be. tried. on. And I've hated trying them on ever since the first time I had to...well, try one on (not to be confused with "tying one on." That, I don't mind so much.).
Remember in The Simpsons when Marge takes Bart shopping for clothes (the clothes that he ends up getting beaten up in by Jimbo, et. al.)? At one point, Marge asks Bart if something or other isn't "darling" or "precious" or something. It might have been little bow ties. Anyway, Bart's all "fine. Can we go now?" That's exactly how I am. I want to go into the store and point - "that one, that one and, okay, that one, I guess" and then head to record store or the book store or somewhere good.
Also, I'm so suggestible when it comes to alterations as to be legally considered moronic. Maybe I'm just intimidated by tailors or something, but I figure that these guys have been doing this shit for 1000 years and must know what they're talking about, so when the bent-over old guy with inch-thick glasses measures the cuffs to, like mid-calf, I figure, "cuffed capri pants for men are happenin' these days, huh? Mmmmmokay then."
While I was on line at the Stop & Shop, I noticed this headline on the currest ish of The National Enquirer:
Julia Roberts's Marriage:
Do you think the tabloid press just has a macro for that already, or what? I mean, do you even need the exclamation point by now?
Posted by mikeski at 4:11 p.m.