The days of Bubble Spinning my life away while mindlessly answering a phone that rarely rings are soon to be over. I've been hired elsewhere (thank God!). In just a few weeks, I will begin my new life as hotel guest receptionist extraordinaire. It might not be the most prestigious position in the world, but hey, it beats watching Mr. Meaney walk to the bathroom with the most recent issue of Law Journal tucked under his arm. Ick.
I applied for this position months ago (which gives me hope that maybe some of the other hundreds of jobs I applied for back in the day will eventually get around to contacting me). It's really quite thrilling. A new chapter in my life is about to begin! Hallelujah!
Before beginning this new chapter, I had to be fitted for my uniform. It's quite simple. Skirt/pants, t-shirt, suit jacket. All black. It's classy. I dig it. I'll be saving a whole lotta money on a work wardrobe. This always tends to be a problem for me, since it's not easy to find pants long enough for my body type. I have to order my jeans from a special store that makes a 37" inseam. This is no joke. The jeans issue I can deal with, but dress pants on top of the jeans issue...not cool.
Fortunately, everyone is personally fitted for a uniform at my new job. This means the clothes will be sewed just for me! How wonderful! Not. When the Asian ladies working in wardrobe saw me, their jaws hit the floor. "So tall!" they said. I've never seen a more flustered, perplexed Asian woman in my life, than the one who was assigned to fit me. She was gawking up at me, trying to decide how she could possibly make a uniform cover my long legs and long arms. Let me remind you, this is her JOB. This should not be a problem. I can't possibly be the only 6-foot-tall female to ever be fitted for a hotel guest receptionist uniform. Give me a break! After measuring my hips and waist, (which she had to reach up to do, mind you) she ran in the back room for what seemed like an hour. I could only imagine this tiny Asian woman rummaging through piles and piles of pants, searching for a pair that just might fit me.
She finally came back with two pairs. The first was too tight. The second fit just right. Around the waist, that is. All of the uniforms are un-hemmed. This way, they can hem each pair of pants to the exact length they need to be depending on who is wearing them. Unfortunately, without the hem, the pants were the perfect length for me. Great, just great. I'll be the receptionist looking like Steve Urkel in my high-waters! My baffled seamstress let out a cute, Asian giggle when she saw the length and promised to make the hem as short as her little Asian fingers would allow.
Luckily, I can wear the skirt, should the pants be too short. And luckily, the skirt is long enough for my legs. Often times, a skirt looks extra short on me even though it's not. My thighs are just longer than everyone elses! There's nothing I can do to change this! Back in high school I got yelled at by the vice principal once because she said my skirt was too short. This really pissed me off. How dare she accuse me of dressing like a skank. I really gave it to her. First off, I said it wasn't a skirt. It was a skort. There were shorts built in underneath the skirt part. (Skorts used to be cool, ok?) Secondly, I told her to find me a skirt that didn't look short on me. She threatened to give me detention if I ever wore a skirt that short again. It was a SKORT!
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