And one asks, Who would sexually harass a woman with a mullett?
So I've got to make this snappy because Project Runway is getting ready to come on...well, in 30 minutes, but I have to get out my favorite TV watchin' blanket, and a 100 calorie pack of cookies. So, I'm on a limited timeframe. But I've got so much to say...there's the training, and well, the training...so let's get to it.
First off, I'll just come out and preface this by saying that I'm a bitch. I'm an awful, elitist bitch and I am sure that when I have kids, I'll squander their lunch money on vodka. I say mean things about nearly everything, I'm fairly selfish, and I derive pleasure from other's pain (only some other people--I'm not heartless, just a bitch). So you can take this or leave this but I'm just callin' it like I sees it.
That training today...sucked. First off, I ended up being the only one from my office going (there were supposed to be 3 of us), because it is almost time for school to start so others were too swamped. Since I am the low man on the totem pole (I have only been working there 6 months), I ended up going alone. So I get this phone call that I'm going alone, and I am running late anyway because I thought it would be a great idea to pack my lunch to save money and all. So instead of doing it up as right as I was gonna (wearing my interview suit and all of that) I end up slapping together a comfy little ensemble of jacket, tank, and black pants and run out the door. When I get to the Holiday Inn, I go running in, and I'm all upset because I've brought my brown purse instead of the black, "professional" looking one. And I am wearing black shoes. I can see my mother rolling her eyes in my head. So I check in, and slap my little nametag on my boob (nice touch for a talk about sexual harassment, huh?). And I walk in, and what do I see? Consummate professionals, you might answer. Business people on Blackberries, you might say. And I would say, "HELL TO THE NO. I should be so lucky!" I open up the door and I see a roomful of overweight 40 something women wearing jeans, sweatshirts, and those horrible cropped pants that women of a certain age are often rocking. And two have them have mulletts. I shit you not. One curly and blonde, and one straight and black. They look at me like I am simulataneously on fire and covered in ice. And this one in the back, a particularly fat one in a leather jacket that could double as a slipcover if this heinous beast ever deems it necessary, looks up from her sexual harassment pamphlet and goes, "We-ell, she's dressed for success, now ain't she?" Now, I'm telling you. I live in the Bay Area, and I'm not saying that it is the most cultured place on the world, but I have never seen this kind of people gathered together here. It was uncanny. I felt like I was in Alabama, or at least back home. So I take my seat, and try to be inconspicuous. Turns out, the class is basically for receptionists and the like. And I don't have a problem with receptionists. They rock at what they do, and I wish we had one at work, as it would make my job so much easier. But I don't really want to hang out with a group of receptionists. Especially when they get going about how hard their job is and how they don't get paid enough and how that you don't need no stinkin' college education to be a good person, dammit! And while I agree with those sentiments in many ways, I half expected for someone to grab me from behind and say "The witch has a BA! She must BURN!"
So that's how I spent my day. I learned about sexual harassment and what to do if it happens, what to do if it could happen, what to do if you don't think it will happen, but if there's still that chance that it might. I listened to what basically turned into an empowerment ritual for the women that life forgot, and I felt mildly bad, but mostly my feeling bad was done in recompense for me just wanting to leave, go take a shower, and then go to the mall.
They had mulletts for shit's sake! MULLETTS. And it wasn't a borderline mullett, like one where you think maybe someone just needs to go to the hairdresser, and they don't mean for it to look like that, they've just been busy and haven't quite made it yet. It was a mullett that you know that someone asked for, that you could just imagine someone saying, "Could you cut that around my ears? Oh, and keep it long in the back. The length makes a man hot, but it's that view of the earlobe that really sets him off!"
But anyway, here's the rundowns:
Today's outfit: Luella for Target navy blue blazer, white Old Navy tank top (you gotta love the $5 Old Navy tank top--Can I get an Amen?), black Express pants, black wedge heels.
Today's make-up: same as yesterday, except today I rocked the Sonia Kashuk lipstick in Pink Jasmine. It's more professional than a gloss. Seriously. I thought about that. And then I end up spending the day with Mullett Women of the 24th 1/2 Century.
Today's purchases: One turkey sandwich on whole wheat, no mayo, and a fruit cup at Panera Bread. Because, yes, I packed my lunch. Yes, I thought to put it in a cooler. Yes, it nearly made me late. But there was a Panera Bread. And I was easily swayed by it. OK? I can't be good all the time...
Ok, onto the mullett free world of Project Runway (I swear to God, if Jeffrey Sebelia gives some woman a mullett out of hate and spite, I just may have to murder him with a pair of scissors.).
First off, I'll just come out and preface this by saying that I'm a bitch. I'm an awful, elitist bitch and I am sure that when I have kids, I'll squander their lunch money on vodka. I say mean things about nearly everything, I'm fairly selfish, and I derive pleasure from other's pain (only some other people--I'm not heartless, just a bitch). So you can take this or leave this but I'm just callin' it like I sees it.
That training today...sucked. First off, I ended up being the only one from my office going (there were supposed to be 3 of us), because it is almost time for school to start so others were too swamped. Since I am the low man on the totem pole (I have only been working there 6 months), I ended up going alone. So I get this phone call that I'm going alone, and I am running late anyway because I thought it would be a great idea to pack my lunch to save money and all. So instead of doing it up as right as I was gonna (wearing my interview suit and all of that) I end up slapping together a comfy little ensemble of jacket, tank, and black pants and run out the door. When I get to the Holiday Inn, I go running in, and I'm all upset because I've brought my brown purse instead of the black, "professional" looking one. And I am wearing black shoes. I can see my mother rolling her eyes in my head. So I check in, and slap my little nametag on my boob (nice touch for a talk about sexual harassment, huh?). And I walk in, and what do I see? Consummate professionals, you might answer. Business people on Blackberries, you might say. And I would say, "HELL TO THE NO. I should be so lucky!" I open up the door and I see a roomful of overweight 40 something women wearing jeans, sweatshirts, and those horrible cropped pants that women of a certain age are often rocking. And two have them have mulletts. I shit you not. One curly and blonde, and one straight and black. They look at me like I am simulataneously on fire and covered in ice. And this one in the back, a particularly fat one in a leather jacket that could double as a slipcover if this heinous beast ever deems it necessary, looks up from her sexual harassment pamphlet and goes, "We-ell, she's dressed for success, now ain't she?" Now, I'm telling you. I live in the Bay Area, and I'm not saying that it is the most cultured place on the world, but I have never seen this kind of people gathered together here. It was uncanny. I felt like I was in Alabama, or at least back home. So I take my seat, and try to be inconspicuous. Turns out, the class is basically for receptionists and the like. And I don't have a problem with receptionists. They rock at what they do, and I wish we had one at work, as it would make my job so much easier. But I don't really want to hang out with a group of receptionists. Especially when they get going about how hard their job is and how they don't get paid enough and how that you don't need no stinkin' college education to be a good person, dammit! And while I agree with those sentiments in many ways, I half expected for someone to grab me from behind and say "The witch has a BA! She must BURN!"
So that's how I spent my day. I learned about sexual harassment and what to do if it happens, what to do if it could happen, what to do if you don't think it will happen, but if there's still that chance that it might. I listened to what basically turned into an empowerment ritual for the women that life forgot, and I felt mildly bad, but mostly my feeling bad was done in recompense for me just wanting to leave, go take a shower, and then go to the mall.
They had mulletts for shit's sake! MULLETTS. And it wasn't a borderline mullett, like one where you think maybe someone just needs to go to the hairdresser, and they don't mean for it to look like that, they've just been busy and haven't quite made it yet. It was a mullett that you know that someone asked for, that you could just imagine someone saying, "Could you cut that around my ears? Oh, and keep it long in the back. The length makes a man hot, but it's that view of the earlobe that really sets him off!"
But anyway, here's the rundowns:
Today's outfit: Luella for Target navy blue blazer, white Old Navy tank top (you gotta love the $5 Old Navy tank top--Can I get an Amen?), black Express pants, black wedge heels.
Today's make-up: same as yesterday, except today I rocked the Sonia Kashuk lipstick in Pink Jasmine. It's more professional than a gloss. Seriously. I thought about that. And then I end up spending the day with Mullett Women of the 24th 1/2 Century.
Today's purchases: One turkey sandwich on whole wheat, no mayo, and a fruit cup at Panera Bread. Because, yes, I packed my lunch. Yes, I thought to put it in a cooler. Yes, it nearly made me late. But there was a Panera Bread. And I was easily swayed by it. OK? I can't be good all the time...
Ok, onto the mullett free world of Project Runway (I swear to God, if Jeffrey Sebelia gives some woman a mullett out of hate and spite, I just may have to murder him with a pair of scissors.).
posted by Southern Belle at 12:35 AM
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