I'm Not The Superficial One!

I've been having some trouble landing a job, and while I have a couple of theories about why, those theories probably say more about my neurotic fantasies than they do about the reality I present to my prospective employers. I worry, as do those irritating progenitors of mine, that I just don't quite look the part, although my parents and I have different ideas about what exactly that means. Let's see: I never bothered to find out how tall I am, but my driver's license says I'm five-foot-five. I'm still getting acne. Sometimes I get carded trying to get into an R-rated movie. I hardly think I'm the only twenty-three-year-old who can still pass for a high school student, but most of my brethren are in Los Angeles, working as extras on The O.C. or Veronica Mars.

So maybe I need to come off as, well, my age, before they'll take me seriously as a candidate. Step one: I tuck my shirt into my pants. This creates the illusion that I've gained a few inches and also makes it more likely people will mistake me for Jerry Lewis. And not the tubby modern-day Jerry Lewis but the Jerry Lewis that the French love. Step two: I wear a tie. I managed to tie the motherfucker all by myself, because I'm a big boy. It chokes me, but that's okay because it's not as if I'm going to need air during my job interview. Step three: I wear a blazer. I actually skip step three partly because my blazer is midnight blue and makes me look like I'm a yacht captain and partly because the helpful salesdude at the Men's Wearhouse where I bought the jacket pointed out that one of my shoulders is higher than the other, so now I'm gonna be self-conscious about that forever. Step four: Wear freshly-polished loafers. I don't own loafers, so I'm gonna have to stick with sneakers.

Mom is thrilled that I wore a tie. She's convinced that I'm not a getting a job because my idea of appropriate job interview attire is anything that didn't come off the men's activewear shelf at Old Navy. For my part, I'd much prefer to not get the job because I'm underqualified rather than underdressed. Turns out I need not worry about that.

My interview is a bust. Shockingly, the tie does not make me any more articulate, or engaging, or enthusiastic. It doesn't improve my resume or my work experience. The tie does, however, wander too close to a toilet and get a pee stain on it, which I'm sure will never come out and will require that I burn the cursed strip of linen, all of which is fine by me.