Friday, May 11, 2007

Work. (Or, More Notes on Camp)

Since this blog has blushed into an even deeper shade of gay this week, here's an old story about a former intern. The female intern, working just for the summer, described her morning decision making process to me.

It went something like this:

"Well, I think to myself before I leave my apartment - should I pack a bag and hit the gym after work...or...should I just walk to work in heels?"

Before I could say anything, she finished up:

"And...usually, I just walk to work in heels."

Sensing a chuckle, she shut me down:

"Don't laugh. It is so much harder than you'd think. You try walking 25 blocks in these motherfuckers."

Given that the internship in question was at a certain midtown employer where featuring vertigo-inducing footwear was a job requirement, I sighed and held back the nascent smartass commentary that was gurgling in my throat.


joe to hell said...

what were you going to say? you should get it out now - it might make you have closure on the story.

i hope it was something like "fine. fork em over. i am sure i can do 26 blocks without as much as a missed step. them there are starter heels, bitch"

TM said...

I'm sure I was going to say something (too cutting) along the lines of...

"despite your earnest seven-sisters college education, there's a raving, shallow fashion bitch incubating deep inside you."