Here is a shot

That I accidentally drank. Or at least I was trying not to show that I was so not a non-alcoholic. And why would I waste $5?

Oyster Shot

So I swallowed it in one gulp trying not to taste what…really was like gasoline to me.

“Always wear a suit.”

“They will remember you,” the guy whose job was a recruiter. “Even if you’re interviewing at a startup.”

I was polite, holding my tongue and just asked further questions encouraging him to talk about his job…friendly small talk at a friend’s farewell party at local bar.

At the age of 21, I trekked all the way from Berkeley to downtown San Francisco in an Anne Klein gray suit. I had it cheaply tailored in Oakland Chinatown. During the interview for an IT job, I fidgeted horribly, stumbled over questions, and felt uncomfortable in my clothes. The hiring manager was dressed more casually—in just a shirt and slacks. I didn’t get the job.

Nowadays at any professional event, I always dress as myself. Always closed-toe shoes. I don’t mind adding a bit of personality and color. Perhaps my favorite necklace or the patterned shirt with a slight flair.

And the suit? I still have it at the back of my closet—thinking that one day I will need it. But since I was 21, I never used it. I even dragged it all the way to Pittsburgh during graduate school, but did not use it at all (or if I did…I probably didn’t get the job and the memory has all but faded in my mind).

Nowadays, clothes don’t matter. I want people to see my skills, my work and my personality. The fit. I don’t want to be remembered as being overdressed. I want to be remembered for iwanttoworkwithher.

After all, in my very judgmental ways, if someone came to interview in a suit for the tech companies I am at, I would immediately think: how dare he not understand our culture or more likely is he such an interview newbie to not realize that we don’t care about dress?

Yesterday at the same party, there was someone who wore a tailored skirt and top…with white sneakers. As I was finding a seat, I glanced at them, assuming correctly that she was planning to walk a long way home. She bluntly explained later, “I don’t really care, because I am married.”

Out with slutty costumes

They strolled in. A really good costume for Big Bird. She followed behind. She had a tuff of blue on her head with a cookie and eyes. Then she had a shawl of blue fur. This was topped off with a generic short skirt and high heel boots.

About 3 hours later out of earshot on a bus heading back to the Mission, I exclaimed in a rare moment of feminism, “How could she ruin the COOKIE MONSTER?!”

Who does that. Really.