One Hot Mess

Last Thursday I was excited to go to a job fair in Raleigh, NC sponsored by a veteran's hiring service (which is awesome and I am in no way criticizing). I supposed I had pegged too many hopes on the event for it to actually bear fruit. In fact it was somewhat of a disappointment.

During the week, my sainted patient mother helped me to put together the perfect "job fair" ensemble. It included an apple green, stretchy, button down blouse, some navy "booty" pants, a perfect set of necklace and earrings (appropriately chunky to balance the severe look of the blouse and pants) as well as my own pair of rocking brown faux snake-skin heels (bought quite a while ago but properly blogged). I felt as though I were ready to take on corporate America!

Thursday dawned warm and sticky but I was optimistic about the endeavour and strove to maintain a positive attitude - despite my lack of job fair experience and the weather. As I drove to Raleigh, I contemplated my choice in shoes. After all, it had been literally YEARS since I had worn heels for any length of time. Still, they were hot and I felt they would give me good luck.

The job fair was in the clubhouse of the NC State Wolfpack stadium. Kind of an odd choice, but whatever... When I got out of the car my clothes immediately stuck to me like glue. It was over 90 degrees and probably 100% humidity. My sassy hairstyle surrendered to the damp and immediately became limp and lifeless. My cute clingy shirt shortly sported moist areas and my pants - well, let's just say I didn't know I could sweat in so many diverse places.

All of my cracks and crevices were wet. And not in a good way. In short - I was a Hot Mess.

Determined to follow through, I stood, sweltering, in one line to register and many lines around the booths. Of the 25 vendors, seven were from education institutions trying to encourage further education. Which is great! But not what I was there for. Five booths were "service" related and offered veteran assistance and stuff - but not jobs. The remaining 13 were pretty specialized in the type of employees they were seeking. Sadly, I was told by most recruiters that they were looking for more "technical" types and not an MBA-sporting hot mess seeking a job in management or logistics.

BOO!

Still, I picked up some great information and intend to actively search their job openings because hey - they came to a job fair sponsored by a veteran's hiring sevice! They must be cool with hiring veterans, right? The fact that they didn't actively recruit me was because they didn't have a job that would utilize my particular skill sets - right? It's not that I gave a horrible first impression is it?

*whimper*

Needless to say, I came back to my parent's house pretty discouraged. And Friday morning? My legs were killing me! I hobbled around their house like I had just recently experienced a bout of wild drunken sex. I suppose they had seen this particular stagger from me plenty of times before - because they didn't bat an eye.

(insert totally fictional conversation that didn't really happen...but could have...)

Me: "Jesus! My legs are killing me!"

Mom: "Really, honey? There's some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. Now do you want scrambled eggs for breakfast or are you still on that diet."

(God, I love my parents - they are so non-plussed)

*ahem*

The culprit? My awesome mile high 2 inch heels. Damn, looking good is painful. But at least my feet pulled it off. Can they interview my feet?



I wore khaki polyester for seven years and yet, new fangled office attire is beyond me!