CAMPUS CORRESPONDENCE : Getting a Job: The Agony of Having to Dress Like a Human Being
Iwent to graduate school so I could avoid wearing pantyhose for another two years. Those constricting snag-magnets are sheer agony for working women. Hit me with 48-hour cramming sessions, $49 textbooks and 50-page term papers, and I’m fine, as long as I can throw on sweats instead of wrestling with the nylon enemy.
But on a recent spring afternoon I realized--it’s almost May. Students still lounging dreamily on lawns soon face graduation day. And the consequences of completing my master’s degree struck me like a ton of Post-Its: This time I’ll really have to get a job. A business-card-and-briefcase job.
Sure, I’ve scooped ice cream. I’ve rung up music-store sales. I’ve even slashed through jungles of library stacks as a research assistant. But this next job will demand that I conform to an adult career culture. It will dictate an arbitrary set of behavioral follies collectively known as professionalism. I’ll have to wear stockings.
For now, of course, the subject is academic. Work is scarce for the class of ’91. “Recession,” “hiring freeze” and “budget cuts” rush to the lips of my potential employers. Upbeat cover letters limp home to me, rejected.
But suppose, somehow, I am hired. Before I crack open a L’Eggs and accept my fate, I offer, from the perspective of a tenured student, a critique of the fundamental problems of the 9-to-5 day:
1. You have to wake up.
Not only do you have to get up, but you have to get up early, to a blaring alarm. Every morning. You can’t design a schedule that eliminates vertical body movement before 11 a.m. You can’t decide, “Hey, I think I’ll cut the first hour of work today. I’m tired and it’s worthless.”
2. You have to sit still.
On campuses nationwide, students sit still for about 10-15 hours a week, during classes. Even then we don’t have to do anything in particular, except nod occasionally and blink. The rest of the time we’re allowed to graze and gallop about as we please.
But at work, you’re a piece of furniture. Sharp-eyed bosses bind you to your seat. I visited an office recently. No one moved except a lonely form down the hallway, hobbling toward the bathroom. True, scattered fingers fluttered at random keyboards. But for the most part, sunken-faced employees just slumped in swivel chairs, their muscles silently atrophying.
3. You have to wear a raincoat even when it’s not raining.
Career dressing means marching to the office each day in trench coats the color of soggy cardboard. Even when the sky is blue. Even the day after you buy a funky leather jacket. And protocol requires that the trench coat sash be knotted. For some mysterious reason, you never use the buckle.
To achieve the requisite sterile-worker look, my male classmates are snipping their ponytails. The women are shearing clouds of billowy hair. Soon, makeup and cologne will streak their faces. Ties and high heels will pinch their necks and toes.
4. You can’t freeload.
A student, in its natural habitat, will instinctively seek out free meals. “I’m a starving student,” you say, slurping up mounds of macaroni salad and chicken at the buffet lunch you just crashed. Businessmen at the next table smile understandingly. They nostalgically mutter “student budget” among themselves.
But when you work, you’re forced to relinquish freeloading. Eating like a pig at official functions suddenly is deemed unkosher. Acting cheap is considered repugnant. Once you draw a salary, you and your dining companion will sing the “I’ll pay,” “No, please, I’ll pay” duet at every sitting.
Unfortunately, paychecks have the last word in the work-or-not debate. So, I’ve already bought some glum navy pumps and have practiced twisting my wild locks into a bun. But while dressing for a job interview, guiding a reluctant foot into the itchy grip of pantyhose, I wonder: Has the application deadline passed for a Ph.D?
