Dust Bunnies
There are times in life when you must present a clean-cut and semi-professional appearance. If you’re going on a job interview, you don’t show up wearing your circa 1980 Metallica T-shirt and Nirvana-reject jeans – unless, of course, you’re auditioning for Roadie #1 in the latest Rockumentary. If you’re meeting your girlfriend’s parents for the first time, leave the gang-banger-wannabe, jeans-at-the-knees outfit at home and wear a pair of slacks and a decent button-down. If you’re applying for a loan to buy a house, please don’t show up in Coco Chanel’s latest silk and lace number – unless you’re a woman.
If you’re trying to impress someone, appearance matters. Yes, it’s unfair and extremely biased, but it’s true; appearance matters. We are visual beings, and while many of us do try to remain objective, we all tend toward snap judgments based on form. No matter how nice, kind or diligent a person is, if they don’t look the part, they’re initially going to be seen as, well, someone who isn’t nice, kind or diligent.
I bring this up because Mr. Fixer and I have been discussing character and honor quite a bit lately. I think that while one’s personal character is of utmost importance, there isn’t really a way to visually show character. Because this is a visually oriented society, good character is often ignored due to the package surrounding it.
You see, in my life, I’ve had a number of job interviews at which I spoke eloquently, tested with very high marks and showed excellent references, but wasn’t hired. This is irksome to me. I am of the opinion that (as my Aunt Cheryll frequently says) if I’ve done the interview, I should start receiving the paychecks. But, in fairness to those who chose not to hire me, I really didn’t look the part of an executive assistant or corporate receptionist.
Now, if I had been applying for the position of bawdy bar maid, I think I would have gotten that. I have the big butt and bazoombas of a classic, pirate-movie bar maid! I could definitely pull off “Saucy Wench”! Saucy Wenches don’t get those corporate positions unless they’re in a very badly translated Romance novel.
My appearance has always gotten me in trouble. Not the legal kind, mind you, just, well, my physical look doesn’t match my insides. I am a kind, gentle, sometimes-polite female of the human species. I don’t yell or scream or have a bad temper. Yes, I have a temper, but the fuse is long, easily doused and there’s a rather small pop; no big ka-boom.
My appearance, on the other hand, is very big, very bold, somewhat stern (especially when I’m not wearing my glasses and can’t focus) and rather intimidating. Since I really don’t do much out-of-the-house stuff, I’m usually in sweats and/or rumpled clothing. Therefore, upon first sight, one would be likely to think that Gigantrix the Frump-Meister had come for a visit.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” you say. “What does any of this have to do with dust bunnies?”
Honestly? Absolutely nothing. When I started this column I was completely blank so I wrote down the first thing I could think of, which happened to be “dust bunnies”. My fingers moved over the keys of their own volition. I figured eventually they’d come up with something about dust bunnies, but they never did.
See? Even this column belies its appearance.
Until next time…
D. S. Vic
Comments are gladly accepted. Please include Northwest Journal in the subject line of your Email. JD_DSVic at Yahoo.com
Copyright © 2010 D. S. Vic.
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