I woke up the next morning in a state of mild panic, having slept right through my alarm. I was due for the interview at 11 am, and it was already 9.45. As I pulled on the beige pants I had borrowed from my sisters husband I couldn’t help thinking I was not dressing to character.
Beige socks, beige pants, and a plain white shirt. Maybe the staff at the advertising company I was going to would think I was such a power dresser that I’d chosen to play it down. I was clutching at straws, and I knew it.
As I grabbed my jacket I rushed down the stairs. My sister Jenn, and Devina were at the kitchen table eating toast chattering and laughing. They fell silent as I entered. I wanted to tell Devina that it was a mean trick she’d pulled last night taking a picture of me in those panties, but this was not the moment. I was more concerned about getting to the interview.
I looked outside to see if the taxi I had called had arrived. The street was empty, all the morning commuters having left this quiet suburban cul de sac.
“Dress for success,” said Devina. I noticed Jenn smirk. “Always a good strategy,” she said.
Jenn chimed in, “You’ll do fine! Don’t worry about it. You know you ‘re good at interviews.”
“I just don’t feel myself in these clothes!”
“I should hope you are not ‘feeling yourself’!” quipped Devina.