[identity profile] mhaille.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] agingpunks
Reminds me of my college days, when the lesbians told me I was too straight-acting and the men told me I was too butch. Some days, you just can't win...

So, I've been doing my favorite* thing since I got here: looking for jobs. Seeing as the field I actually trained for isn't currently hiring, I am playing the "Do I understand what this ad means? Good, I'm qualified" game, involving everything I've ever done for money before, which includes retail, food service, childcare, elder care, phone monkey, and probably a few other things I've forgotten or can figure out on the fly, with special attention given to ads that offer to train me in whatever it is they want me to do. There's being flexible, then there's training to be a contortionist, and you can guess which end I'm zipping towards.

So you can imagine my joy when I saw a beauty supply store with a help wanted ad in the window- selling hair color, giving advice, and performing many helpful retail services such as dusting the extensions, filing my nails over the cash register, and the like. I can totally do that! I have enough levels in Hair Color that I spontaneously break out in advice to total strangers in the health and beauty aisle as it is! Truly, it is my lucky day!

I go in, intending to look at products for myself, and am greeted by an aggressively made-up woman with poufed and frosted hair and that lovely orange glow that comes from a combination of 30 years of tanning combined with foundation that's too dark for winter use. What's worse, she is fervently anti-weird, telling me that a plum rinse on my hair (which, for the record, is a level 3, which is hair-color-ese for "dark as hell, the most you'll get without bleaching is maybe a glint if you stand in the sun") would be "like, almost purple in your hair," delivered in the tone I'd use for things like "you're dressed like a Republican**."

I shove down twinges of fear numbers one through 73, all concerning the fact that I am clearly Doin It Rong in the eyes of a leathery, poorly aged debutante, but ask about the sign regardless, only to be told that they want someone who looks "really fashionable" for the job.

Not unexpected, as I knew from the second I stepped in that I was not their kind of artificially colored, but really now. Am I seriously being schooled in how to look feminine by a woman whose face could be mistaken for a pair of chaps?

Now, I understand that I am a New England hippie- the entirety of my makeup fits, and is stored, in a little lunchbox covered in old communist propaganda posters from the early Soviet Union. It is only under great duress that I shave my legs between Halloween and Easter, and, were I in a world where such joy was possible, I would dress like a little skater boy*** better than 75% of the time. However, as I've noticed that North Jersey Scruffy is roughly equivalent to Vermont's idea of Gussified, I have been making the effort with my limited wardrobe, particularly since I may have to deal with Spontaneous Interviews.

I wore heels out two days running, despite considerable objection from my hips, and have been cycling through my two pairs of slacks and one professional skirt that fit, topped with the handful of Nice Shirts I can muster after 7 years of getting to dress like an androgynous hippie and dropping 10 years worth of spare weight, and I like to think that I was at least faking it decently, and you're going to tell me that "fashionable" is limited to pageant-winning pancake faces?

Just think how much I could bring in selling all your customers makeup removal pads, sunscreen and moisturizers!

The worst part- I am going to hit all the local tattoo and piercing places to see if they need a receptionist slash piercing trainee, and I bet you $5 they're gonna look at me and decide I'm too normal, and will scare away their client base.


*Least favorite
**Usage: Are you sure you wanna wear that out? You look like a Republican.
***From the early 90s, that is.
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agingpunks: (Default)
For The Goth Punk Hippie of a Certain Age

May 2012

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