Still learning the ropes.

To convey the dress code at my office, I will relate this overheard quote with no other context: “This barefoot thing; you used to at least grace us with flip-flops.”

I think a nine-and-a-half to ten hour day will not seem as long once I have my tasks before me. It’s been two days of intensive orientation to all of the aspects of the job that can be spoken of.

So I’m on the phone nodding like a fool as though the person on the other end could know that, trying to think of a polite way to say “this is the third time I have been told that three people proof-read every project, so, please, let’s get on to something new, because however much I may care about what you have to say, as aware that I am that everything I’m told is, in fact, important, this is what’s happening in my brain: ‘Pay attention, pay attention, nod, make a noise of comprehension, nod, eye-contact, mhm; hm. Maybe I’ll wear my “skate-inspired slip-on sneakers”* tomorrow; because, we’re going bowling after work so I probably ought to be wearing socks, and –shit, I forgot pay attention.'”

It’s exhausting. Truly.

*A description from the internets. I did some cursory research because I didn’t, and still don’t, know if this style of shoe has an accepted name like “hi-top” or “flip-flop” or “hooker boot”. My sister refers to them functionally as slip-ons. Although they are uber-popular now, I know that when I was eleven, Keds made a version that my mom wore and that my feet were already bigger than hers at that time. I remember shuffling to the mailbox with my feet half out of them. Slap a screen-print on something and it suddenly goes from mother-of-eleven-year-old wear to hipster wear. Funny how fashion works.

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