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.