I Don't Own A Pantsuit

I can handle a lot.  There are few things in this world that you can insult that will truly upset me:

• My family
• My friends
• My fashion
• My education

That's it.  After that, I'm OK.  Last week, in an interview, two of those things were insulted - not my family or friends.  

Let's see here, last week I had two interviews with the same company.  Interview #1 went great, so great that she told me right there that I am going to get a second interview.  You're welcome.  However, she told me to dress more conservatively.  I was wearing a pencil skirt, blouse, tights and shoes.  I thought that was conservative.  Maybe I shouldn't have worn a blue blouse?  I don't know.  She told me to wear a pantsuit to my next interview.  That's funny.  It's 103 degrees outside.  I don't even own a pantsuit.  You're funny.

My second interview, I did not wear a pantsuit.  Why?

1. I don't own one.
2. It's hot outside
3. I'm not buying a pantsuit until I know I need one for more than one occasion.  Those things come at a price!

I wore slacks and button down shirt.  Seriously guys, it was 103 degrees in Central Texas on Friday.  My second interview was two hours long.  I don't have ADD, but you can only hold my attention for so long before I get restless.  The first half of the interview was a "branch observation."  That was a waste of a solid hour.  I will never get that hour back and I did not retain any information.

The second half of the interview felt like a Comedy Central Roast.  I was Bob Saget, the lady interviewing me was John Stamos, and instead of saying something nice about me at the end of every insult, she just backed it up with a look that read "you don't understand."  After about 45 minutes of being spoken to like I was wearing a name tag that said "ignorant" on it, I finally lost my cool.

I can handle intensity.  My interview at Capital Office was intense because my boss was the most intimidating person in the world.  Nice as can be, but he was a vampire.  I was sweating that entire interview, and he hired me.  I once had a job where I was insulted on a daily basis, and that boss loved me.  But I do not handle being spoken down to very well.  Maybe I should, but at 25 years old, I don't feel like taking the time to learn a new trade.  

At the end of the interview, this woman looked at my resume, looked back at me with a look of worry and disappointment and says to me, "I see you have a Bachelors of Science in Journalism.  You do realize, there is no journalism here.  There is no writing here."  She clasped her hands, put them on her desk and gave me the "poor, pitiful you" look.  That's when I lost it.

God left the room and said, "I'm going to let Brooke handle this."  I did not raise my voice and I was 100% respectful, but I let her know that I understand and I gave her a little insight on why my degree is just as important as anyone else's. 

Now, I probably won't get called back for a third interview.  I'll probably have a restraining order put out on me.  But, she did tell me if I get called back for a third interview to wear a pantsuit.

Somebody call Hillary Clinton for me and see where she gets her suits.