The Magic Heels.

Do you ever just see something, and think, you know what, this is going to be my good luck charm. That was the case with these shoes.  To me they seemed too perfect.  The exact mix of business and party, the mullet of shoes.  I saw them staring at me from a far and thought, I'm going to buy these overpriced shoes because they are going to get me a job.  Well.  There may have a bit of a disjoint with that causality.  But whatever, the shoes symbolized a new Corinne, polished and professional, taking care of business like a boss.

Boy, did I learn.  The day of my back to back interviews came and I was ready.  What's that saying, "Dress well, test well," well I like to think of it as dress well, interview well and my outfit just felt right.  I was wearing red, which if I remember correctly (according to some cheesy magazine I read years ago) red meant passionate, determined and intense.  Exactly what I was going for. And to top it off, I had my new shoes on.  After slipping those babies on; I felt invincible.

Driving is always less challenging than I expect in heels, it's actually quite easy.  Leaving with time to spare I sped into D.C. already anxious of parking.  I am convinced D.C. has the worst, the worst drivers known to mankind, and with me in the mix, WATCH OUT.  As I passed the office I was interviewing at, I began to panic, how do people park in the city?! Like really how does it work.  Refusing to risk humiliation in a horrible attempt to parallel park, I decided to park six blocks from the interview in a parking garage that charged me $30 upfront. It's fine, it's fine, I thought, I am wearing my lucky shoes.  And so I left the garage feeling triumphant that I hadn't crashed into a pedestrian. As I began to walk the six long blocks to the interview, everything just felt...right.  It was a sunny day.  Everyone was passing me with a purpose and I felt like I belonged.  Plus I looked the part, and confidently walked towards my destiny.  My dreams of living in the city were rudely interrupted by a homeless man who at first said "Give me money!" and then continued to tell me to "go back to my own country" I looked at him and smiled, YOU are not going to ruin this for me, I have my lucky heels on and I'm the one heading to the interview mister (side note: if you were homeless, wouldn't you be nicer to people so they are actually temped to "give you money" but I digress).

I felt so proud making it to the interview early that I ignored the digging sensation coming from my feet.  No, I thought, my shoes are perfect, these beauties aren't going to give me blisters, they're getting me a job!  However, after having to run to my second interview, literally run, I decided I could maybe... possibly be a little tinny bit wrong about the magical shoes.  And maybe about these interviews as well.  Feeling a little defeated and more than a little tired, I drove home contemplating the last interview question:

"What degrees past 12 o'clock is the hour hand at 3:15?"

After reworking millions of ways to solve the problem in my head (it's 97.5 degrees to any of you attempting this horribly lame interview question), I finally put it to rest, the interview was over.  As I looked over my shoulder to change lanes,  I smiled, seeing my magical heels sitting in the backseat, my confidence restored.  Okay, they may not be magic, but I had no regrets buying these lovely shoes.  Learning from them (that I can only wear them for 2 hours max). And although I didn't wear them to a winning interview, I will one day wear these to a job that I love, for 2 hours.  And hey, they were still sexy as hell.