Print Story The Bohemian Chrysalid, Part I
Working life
By CheeseburgerBrown (Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 03:04:20 PM EST) corporate, job, change, life (all tags)
This is the first in a multi-part series detailing my transition from impoverished freelance bum to corporate art director. In this installment I put on clothes and cut my hair.


Preparation, Staging & Costume

For most of my adult life I have been a freelance commercial artist. I live and work in a century-old schoolhouse in the Canadian countryside, only bothering to put on pants if company is expected or if a courier's been called. I set my own hours. When work is bumming me out I go take a nap or walk the dog or drink a beer.

On Mondays I send out e-mails asking for money and then a few weeks later cheques come in at the General Store, which I pick after walking the dog or while shopping for more beer. Working in this way I have acquired for my family the standard Western portfolio: transport, shelter, sustenance, medicine, clothing and broadband Internet access.

Granted, we do not live like kings. The water from our well is free but metallic. Our clothes are second-hand. To take a hot bath requires boiling pots of water on the stove. The car sounds like a biplane and drives like a shopping cart. During the spring it rains nearly as much indoors as it does outside, and the telephone stops working.

When our first child was born we tightened our belts and made due. I sold storybooks over the Web and took on painting commissions for extra cash. Home soon became a busier and more frenetic place with a toddler underfoot, and finding the peace to work became a challenge. Finding the time to grow the business became a challenge, too.

As my wife began to swell with our second child we both began to suspect that the system would not survive the strain.

So, after nearly a decade as an art bum, I decided to get a job.

I've signed up to be the art director of a corporate communications company, and I start Monday.

Last week I was still a shameless hippie. My wife passed our son without analgesia in an inflatable wading pool at my mother's house and I crouched behind her in the water in my worn corduroys, reminding her to pace her breathing as she screamed.

The midwives hovered over her bits, discussing a wayward lip of cervix which wouldn't stand aside. The Nigerian medical student we'd invited to watch leaned in to get a better look through the ruby water, her teeth shockingly bright in her round brown face. My sister served as doula, beads jingling every time she moved.

My wife screamed again.

And then suddenly I had two kids -- one of each flavour. The newest recruit lay on my wife's breast and hummed like a meditating yogi, little blue fingers turning pink as he squirmed. "Hello, friend," I said.

His birth-cry was a herald of change.

Two days earlier I had received the official offer from the communications company I'd been courting, the product of weeks of negotiations, a PDF dimly glowing on my craptop's screen with everything spelled out and itemized and specific. I telephoned my new office and told them I would like the accept the offer as is, and then they all took turns telling me how excited they were to have me aboard and so on.

We set a start date. I took my wife out for spicy Mexican food, which some sources say may ignite reluctant labour. Then we had hot porno sex for the same reason and went to bed. In the morning her uterus ejected its mucus plug and started twitching. The progress of that particular situation kept my mind off my job for a spell.

Then, like I said, the kid cried like a rooster. A new day had dawned.

As I began to consider my new life with renewed seriousness I realized certain preparations would have to be made. I released the bladderful of urine I'd been keeping during the short strokes of labour and considered myself in the mirror: scruffy quasi-Islamic beard, faded cotton T-shirt, sopping pants and no shoes. In nearly every respect I appeared to be the antithesis of a decent working man.

"I'm going to need new clothes," I said.

"Of course," said my wife. "But I don't think I can come with you."

"Yeah," I agreed. The junior midwife was stitching up a small tear in her perineum. The sight of my wife's blood recalled to me the soul-blanching sounds of her screams moments before and I felt dizzy. "I'm just going to leave you two to this," I said, ducking out.

The baby was in the bedroom being measured and weighed. He was still humming. I poked my thumb at his palm until he closed his fingers around it and tugged.

My mother asked me what sort of clothes I would need for work and I gave it some thought. The big boss wears a sweater and slacks, sometimes with a tie and sometimes without. The fellows in the art department, in contrast, dress like standard-issue twenty-first century tidied-up man-boys: unpleated baggy trousers and round-collared cotton shirts, often with logos on them.

My mother suggested that I would be more comfortable with the latter benchmark, as it most closely resembled my own careless uniform of worn cotton -- but her saying so crystallized for me my desire to avoid camouflage. As the art director it would not be to my profit to be mistaken for just another production geek.

My step-father, a veteran of business, agreed. My choice of clothing was an important statement about how I wanted to be perceived within the company and to clients, he explained, and would go a long way toward setting a foundation for my authority.

Controlling perceptions, especially for first impressions, is important. I knew this a decade ago at art school when it became plain that if you dressed the part you would be received as a more serious student by the faculty. By wearing a paint-stained pair of white coveralls I was considered dedicated to art and therefore able to win the attention and time of my mentors.

I reckon some people would call that pretentious, but it never seemed so to me because it chiefly meant I didn't have to bother to change my splattered clothes after painting all morning. The wardrobe of a messy and obsessed artist is both affordable and easy to maintain, especially if you actually are a messy and obsessed artist.

That was when I was twenty-one. But I'm thirty-one and it's time to regear again. This time I'm not trying to hog the resources of the faculty but rather trying to build the authority I'll need to be given the latitude I want.

Everyone expects the art director to look like a man-boy. And, since it is the art director's job to generate unexpected ideas, I figure the most unexpected thing for me to do is to go formal.

Therefore I have elected to adopt a suit as my new uniform.

My step-father took me to the tailor's. I already have one nice grey suit but it's a bit drab so I made the salesman trot all over the store until he found me a nice charcoal fabric with thin, low-contrast pinstripes. The salesman had some difficulty following my directives (he was trying to bluff his way through an ignorance of the definition of contrast, for instance) but he eventually found the mark.

As we shopped I mentioned to the salesman my various preferences, all of which he echoed with an enthusiastic cry of, "That's exactly the same with me!" This unbroken train of coincidence strained credulity upon repetition, especially when he claimed to exclusively favour "solid colour ties" while an elaborately patterned tie scintillated on his chest.

He offered up a striped tie and opined, "This one is pretty solid."

Solid colour ties are the bane of my formalwear-shopping existence. The last time I bought a suit the salesman tried to explain to me, at first gently and then bluntly, that solid colour ties were out of style and that a gentleman of any quality wouldn't be caught dead with one. He appraised the clothes I was wearing with disdain and suggested I should heed his experienced counsel.

I bought my tie elsewhere.

This salesman, in contrast, simply didn't seem to understand the concept of pattern. He was eager to be helpful. He wanted to crack this particular nut, and he tirelessly brought me patterned tie after patterned tie in an unending parade of earnest ineptitude.

My step-father read his book about the history of the British Navy and yawned.

Once I was able to paw through the tie drawers myself I came up with two selections, and then we proceeded to choose shirts. Throughout this later part of the hunt I maintained a steadfast refusal to be clad in either Dilbert white or Mafioso dark but rather championed a middle road of sand and copper, which I felt would nicely frame the blood- and rust-red ties I had picked.

(Prussian Blue is my favourite colour but ever since I redesigned my website last autumn in a decisive effort to get away from the slatey-blue and grey that decorates so much of the Web I've found a new love of Oriental Lucky Red.)

Once at home again I took a long shower and then used the beard trimmer my wife got me for Christmas to actually trim my beard. I shaved it down from my cheeks and cleared my neck, then sheared the remaining scruff to a uniform length. Next came my head, shaved down to the no-guff zen of near-military shortness.

I bought antiperspirant. Funny stuff!

My daughter doesn't want me to go to work. She breaks my heart, telling me how she "won't be able to wait" for me to come home. "You won't be able to wait?" I echo as she sits on the counter and watches me shave.

"No," she assures me.

"What will happen when you can't wait any longer? Will you explode?"

"Maybe or not," she says sadly, nodding.

My step-father's non-Terrorist Arabian mechanic found a car for me, too -- a used Volvo in excellent shape, save for one dented door and mis-matched interior fabric. The price is such that I should be able to afford it fairly soon, and my step-father may offer me a short-term no interest loan if need be.

He also found me a replacement laptop on eBay after my wife inadvertently cranked the hinge off my existing craptop during the early stages of labour, so now I won't have to walk into work looking like I stole my personal computer from a homeless man. I gave the old unit to my brother, who will use his genius to give it new life.

(I am able to cover the price of the new used laptop in part due to generous contributions from readers like you. Since I am now employed in a traditional sense I have taken down the donation button from my blog. My heartfelt thanks to everyone who chipped in while the campaign lasted. Soon I will be in a position to click your donation buttons.)

My daughter disapproves of the new laptop. Ever since her brother was born she's become wary of any kind of change. "I don't like it," she says, lip quivering. "I want you big 'puter back."

"The broken one?"

"Yeah please."

The next element of my new wardrobe was footwear. I don't care for shoes and tend to wear them only in winter to avoid frostbite. When I need to go into restaurants I might put on a pair of foul-smelling blue Chuck Taylors -- the famous "all star" canvas shoes with less support than a wet napkin. Mocassins for honkey.

The furthest I could bring myself to close that particular gap was to buy a pair of new Chuck Taylors that don't yet smell funky. For some inexplicable reason they cost a bazillion dollars. I'm not very good at shopping.

Finally, my mother persuaded my step-father to donate to me a leather overcoat which looks considerably more dashing than my giant green-not-blue-or-brown parka. It has fur around the collar, so that's two kinds of dead animal in one sleek package. (It's hard to be less of a hippie than to wear two kinds of dead animal, unless you wear two kinds of dead animal while eating veal.)

So, I've got a shiny laptop chocked full of iTunes goodness, well-groomed non-Islamic facial hair, a good suit, non-stink shoes, an adult overcoat and my very own Volvo in my future. I have a bullet-proof haircut and a song in my heart.

I go to wage war on the mortgage.

My very first task as a corporate teat-sucker? On Monday morning I'm off to direct a photo shoot of $FAMOUS_HIP-HOP_ARTIST for the cover of his new album. The boss is out of town, so I am being sent alone. I won't even have some chick with a clipboard to back me up.

Cross your fingers for me. Whee!

< Powerpuff Girls Cartoon Mashup Doujinshi | BBC White season: 'Rivers of Blood' >
The Bohemian Chrysalid, Part I | 52 comments (52 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
May I suggest.. by Driusan (4.00 / 3) #1 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 03:30:57 PM EST
..that you go to work wearing the suit without pants, to make the transition easier? And if the hip hop artist suspects you of being a hippy and demands that you prove otherwise, may I also suggest that instead of veal, you try finding a nice Korean BBQ?

(It may be worth noting at this point that I'm unemployed, for some reason.)

That said, good luck with the job and godspeed you (um.. to work, I guess) and all that.


--
Vive le Montréal libre.

Veal Is Contentious by CheeseburgerBrown (4.00 / 1) #8 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:32:27 PM EST
I don't want people to think I'm cruel -- just decisive and possibly worth listening to.

I will therefore continue to eat veal only in private since the truth of the matter is I really enjoy a nice veal parmigiana with light breading and quality cheese. Whether we like to admit it or not, suffering is delicious.

I will also be wearing pants, because I would otherwise be intolerably embarassed. I mean, c'mon. Let's be practical -- 90% of my co-workers are girls.

The Hip Hop Artist will no doubt see me as whiter and white bread, which is too close to the truth for me to bother arguing.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
Wow. by toxicfur (2.00 / 0) #2 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 03:45:34 PM EST
ana and I were talking about Simon of Space last night. ana made an allusion to some bit, and I sighed. "I love that book, and CBB is so going to be famous." I do hope that this is the first step toward funding your life as an author. I love your art, but your words just sing. Even my mom agrees.

Good luck, and keep us updated, please, on work and family.
--
damn it, lif eis actually really *far4 too good at tghe momnent, shboyukbnt;t whilen. --Dr Thrustgood

i mentioned it yesterday too by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #4 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:07:44 PM EST
i was wearing clothes...plus a bathrobe.
Send me to Austria!
[ Parent ]
I Steal Littlestar's Bathrobe. by CheeseburgerBrown (2.00 / 0) #10 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:39:49 PM EST
It looks just like mine -- hers is green and mine is blue, and I prefer blue over green so that makes sense. Nevertheless, I always end up wearing hers.

She has a girlier robe, too, but I avoid wearing that one unless it's the only thing I can find when the dog needs to pee at hypothermia o'clock in the morning. Then Littlestar laughs at me and I blush and try to claw out a shred of dignity as I retie the frilly sash.

Sometimes I wear my robe like a kilt when it's too hot for robes but not warm enough for less, so I let the top half hang down over the bottom. For some reason this causes me little to no feeling of self-consciousness despite how ridiculous it must look. It's like the lazy-morning-tea version of 256's patchwork skirt.

...And that's all I have to say about that.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
nick and i realized by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #13 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 06:05:45 PM EST
in about early december that neither of us had a proper robe. so we got them for eachother for christmas. we now have fluffy bathrobes for lounging, doing laundry, and whatever else we feel like.
Send me to Austria!
[ Parent ]
The New Novel Is A High Priority by CheeseburgerBrown (2.00 / 0) #9 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:35:25 PM EST
Though, truthfully, the next chore I have to move forward is the second draft of Simon of Space, retooled as per the guidance of the editor, a nice lady named Marsha.

Nevertheless, I look forward to the structured time of work giving me better opportunities for routine writing so that when SoS is out of the way I can crank out AFG steadily, like from a sausage-press, from my PowerBook and into $GIANT_PUBLISHERS' heart.

Here's hopin', at any rate.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
I can't wait. :-) by toxicfur (2.00 / 0) #11 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:42:37 PM EST
Best of luck. Just remember to whistle.
--
damn it, lif eis actually really *far4 too good at tghe momnent, shboyukbnt;t whilen. --Dr Thrustgood
[ Parent ]
suits by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #3 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:07:14 PM EST
when we bought a suit for nick, we went around to a couple different stores...and then chose the one with the least pushy sales people. we ended up with a beautiful black one, and two shirts: rust, and royal purple. men in suits = teh sexxy.
Send me to Austria!
I agree. by toxicfur (4.00 / 1) #5 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:10:06 PM EST
But women in men's suits? With the shirt collar open? Even sexier. /me drools.
--
damn it, lif eis actually really *far4 too good at tghe momnent, shboyukbnt;t whilen. --Dr Thrustgood
[ Parent ]
plz, pics, thx, etc by Driusan (4.00 / 1) #6 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:14:20 PM EST
PAGING GREYRAT!

--
Vive le Montréal libre.
[ Parent ]
with suspenders! by ana (4.00 / 2) #7 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:29:40 PM EST
need towel.

Can you introspect out loud? --CRwM

[ Parent ]
i do not own a suit. by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #14 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 06:07:50 PM EST
YES! by misslake (4.00 / 1) #17 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 09:06:44 PM EST
a "men's style" woman's pantsuit is teh hottest. or if you get a man's suit, make sure you tear open the side seams and the back darts and cinch it in nice and tight.

[ Parent ]
sorry, no by martingale (2.00 / 0) #18 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 10:16:21 PM EST
It makes a woman look like a dyke who tries too hard. No "men's style" suits on women, please. Suits are very sexy, but only if they end in a skirt.
--
$E(X_t|F_s) = X_s,\quad t > s$
[ Parent ]
Strongly disagree . . . by slozo (2.00 / 0) #19 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 10:42:18 PM EST
. . . I've seen many a sexy pantsuit. I say, get one!

[ Parent ]
but not men's cuts [n/t] by martingale (2.00 / 0) #20 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 11:52:03 PM EST

--
$E(X_t|F_s) = X_s,\quad t > s$
[ Parent ]
For those of us... by toxicfur (2.00 / 0) #22 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 02:25:02 AM EST
who find that the boundary between masculine and feminine is sexy, a man's suit on a woman or traditionally feminine clothes on men is just hot. Skirts on women don't really do it for me--on men, though? Wow. And stereotypically masculine men in suits is fine, but a woman in a suit just really does it for me.
--
damn it, lif eis actually really *far4 too good at tghe momnent, shboyukbnt;t whilen. --Dr Thrustgood
[ Parent ]
yesbutnobutyes by martingale (2.00 / 0) #27 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:16:54 AM EST
Everyone has their likes, but is it a good idea?

Because it subverts common expectations, it's not going to make a woman sexy to most people. So the real question is who is the suit idea designed to impress? If it's about walking down the street exuding sexyness, then it's best to stay with traditional choices. If it's about being sexy only for that special someone, then there's really nothing to argue about :-)

Really, what I meant to say was more like: stay with the classic formats if you care how others look at you. The classics have been debugged to death, and they work. If you're thinking of going nontraditional, chances are you won't look sexy so much as silly. Again, it's all about the target audience and their expectations.
--
$E(X_t|F_s) = X_s,\quad t > s$

[ Parent ]
Well, by toxicfur (2.00 / 0) #35 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 04:28:45 AM EST
I see what you're saying, but I don't dress (or rarely dress) for other people. I do know that many people where a "costume" that conflicts in some way with who they feel they really are. I can't seem to pull that off--I wear feminine clothes, and I feel like I'm in drag, even though I'm biologically female. When I'm comfortable with what I'm wearing, I feel more confident, and I think that comes across. I do know that when I see someone who's wearing clothes that they are clearly comfortable in, I find that really sexy. When that comfort transgresses our ideas of masculine and feminine, it's even sexier.
--
damn it, lif eis actually really *far4 too good at tghe momnent, shboyukbnt;t whilen. --Dr Thrustgood
[ Parent ]
quite by martingale (4.00 / 1) #49 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 09:04:57 PM EST
People get used to wearing certain kinds of styles. Suits don't look good on everybody, and even if they do look good in a pose, you have to be able to carry them off, which is difficult if you don't wear them regularly.

I guess that's the other thing I meant to say, convincing people to wear suits who don't naturally wear them is a bit disaster prone, kind of like buying those skin tight leather pants with the leopard spots and flares - not a good idea for most people. If on top of that the suit is designed for a different body form, well it might be taken as a joke rather than a fashion statement.


--
$E(X_t|F_s) = X_s,\quad t > s$

[ Parent ]
Ah.. by Bob Abooey (2.00 / 0) #51 Tue Mar 07, 2006 at 03:55:04 AM EST
Suits don't look good on everybody, and even if they do look good in a pose, you have to be able to carry them off, which is difficult if you don't wear them regularly.

There's quite a difference between a suit you pick off the rack at your local department store and one that is custom tailored specifically for you.

Warmest regards,
--Your best pal Bob

[ Parent ]
i agree by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #32 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 04:23:18 AM EST
nuh uh. by LilFlightTest (4.00 / 1) #33 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 04:24:22 AM EST
skirt/suit things always make me feel like the person in question is saying "i am professional...but check out my legs!"
Send me to Austria!
[ Parent ]
fair enough by martingale (2.00 / 0) #48 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 08:51:11 PM EST
Sometimes they do have worthy legs :)
--
$E(X_t|F_s) = X_s,\quad t > s$
[ Parent ]
wanna go shopping? by LilFlightTest (2.00 / 0) #31 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 04:22:15 AM EST
Yes, lets! by toxicfur (2.00 / 0) #34 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 04:25:36 AM EST
After Deadline, of course. When are you coming east?
--
damn it, lif eis actually really *far4 too good at tghe momnent, shboyukbnt;t whilen. --Dr Thrustgood
[ Parent ]
oh, jeez. by LilFlightTest (4.00 / 1) #46 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 10:58:42 AM EST
ummmmm...i...dont know? i'll let you know when i do, though.
Send me to Austria!
[ Parent ]
I Couldn't Do Purple. by CheeseburgerBrown (2.00 / 0) #12 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 04:43:08 PM EST
I'd feel way to Samuel L. Jackson or something, whereas I'm more akin to Jeff Goldblum in The Fly where he has a closetful of the same outfit replicated a dozen times over, only I favour minor variations.

I'm interested in a brown suit, but brown suits must be selected very carefully so I haven't been brave enough yet.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
Better... by NoMoreNicksLeft (2.00 / 0) #23 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 02:48:01 AM EST
That you wear brown suits than brown underwear, is what I always say.

Also, is it just me, or does Jeff Goldblum only ever play a single character, that of a whiny, neurotic jew? Sure, there are exceptions (The Fly), but minus some dialogue, he is completely interchangeable between movies. We could greenscreen in Goldblum from Jurassic Park into Independence Day, and no one would notice.
--
Do not look directly into laser with remaining good eye.

[ Parent ]
guess what. by garlic (2.00 / 0) #37 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 05:00:38 AM EST
every actor plays the same character all the time.


[ Parent ]
If that's what you believe... by NoMoreNicksLeft (4.00 / 1) #43 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 08:48:37 AM EST
Then you really should watch fewer Jeff Goldblum movies.
--
Do not look directly into laser with remaining good eye.
[ Parent ]
don't do purple by 606 (2.00 / 0) #41 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 06:53:52 AM EST
do burgundy. With a striped teal and red-ish tie. Basically I'm saying that the outfit I wore to the last office Christmas party was the most stylish day of my life.

-----
imagine dancing banana here
[ Parent ]
please to be posting by aphrael (4.00 / 4) #15 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 07:10:27 PM EST
a picture of you in your brand new suit. :)
If television is a babysitter, the internet is a drunk librarian who won't shut up.
I'll Bother Littlestar About It... by CheeseburgerBrown (4.00 / 1) #30 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:44:08 AM EST
...once I get dressed. She just came in and laughed at me for HuSying in my skivvies.

(Technically less-than-skivvies but let's not go there.)


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
Wow, Canadian Hip-Hop. by ammoniacal (4.00 / 1) #16 Sun Mar 05, 2006 at 08:26:58 PM EST
Gee-- you learn something new each day.

"To this day that was the most bullshit caesar salad I have every experienced..." - triggerfinger

Truth Be Told: by CheeseburgerBrown (4.00 / 4) #24 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:07:40 AM EST
The most talented and well-known Canadian Hip Hop artist are usually French and/or Quebecois, and therefore usually only known up here.

The fellow I'm seeing today can be described as "famous" fairly because he is known in the United States of Cheney, and has had an album co-produced by actual Americans.

Stilll, for my money the French shit is cooler. You can't understand what the fuck they're saying so you can just pretend they're not saying stuff that's retarded. This is more challenging in English.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
IAWTLastParagraph by martingale (4.00 / 1) #28 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:20:28 AM EST
That is so true. In both directions.
--
$E(X_t|F_s) = X_s,\quad t > s$
[ Parent ]
what do you think about mc solaar? by aphrael (2.00 / 0) #40 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 06:26:35 AM EST
Yeah, if Snow was really Canadian by georgeha (4.00 / 1) #36 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 04:32:07 AM EST
why didn't he call his album 30 Centimeters of Snow?


[ Parent ]
k-os rules. by aphrael (4.00 / 1) #39 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 06:26:02 AM EST
It must be like your first day at school by nebbish (4.00 / 3) #21 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 01:09:46 AM EST
Very, very best of luck. And when you get that first pay packet, buy yourself a treat.

--------
It's political correctness gone mad!

It Is! by CheeseburgerBrown (4.00 / 1) #38 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 05:51:30 AM EST
Now I'm waiting in a coffee shop to meet the Talent and His Manager, who are late.

I'm loving the open wireless network, though.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
Nigerian medical student by jimgon (4.00 / 4) #25 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:16:20 AM EST
You didn't give him your bank account number did you?




---------------
Technician - "We can't even get decent physical health care. Mental health is like witchcraft here."
Yeah, But by CheeseburgerBrown (4.00 / 5) #29 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:42:55 AM EST
She said she was a member of the royal family, struggling to export her bounty from the reaches of shameless warlords and collection agencies.

She showed me documents and everything.


I am from a small, unknown country in the north called Ca-na-da. We are a simple, grease-loving people who enjoy le weekend de ski.
[ Parent ]
Just so long by jimgon (4.00 / 1) #45 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 10:35:52 AM EST
Just so long as you are going to reap 50% of the profits.  Never give a Nigerian your bank account number unless s/he offers 50% of the profits. 




---------------
Technician - "We can't even get decent physical health care. Mental health is like witchcraft here."
[ Parent ]
plspstpixkthx by wiredog (4.00 / 3) #26 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 03:16:53 AM EST
We need to see the new, respectable, corporate, CBB.

Also, it's "honkie", not "honkey", and the modern form is "cracker".

Unless you're trying to be black, in which case it's "wigger", for "white " etc.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

No tie plz by 606 (2.00 / 0) #42 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 07:03:45 AM EST
You want to strike that middle ground: you want to be official and upright, an important person who means business, but you also want to be known for bold new ideas and creative strategies. Thus, wear your full tailored suit but ditch the tie and wear rumpled collared shirts or t-shirts. You can even wear jeans sometimes. As long as you have that suit jacket you'll have that impression of "yes, I am the man. With the plan." It's the corporate hipster look.

I'm at the rumpled shirt stage now. I plan to upgrade to the suit jacket soon enough, maybe when I get a better job.

I second aphrael's request for a photo!

-----
imagine dancing banana here

Golden Man be yours! by chopper (4.00 / 1) #50 Tue Mar 07, 2006 at 01:05:52 AM EST
For some reason that brings up images of Peter Jackson at the Oscar ceremonies...

[ Parent ]
i think i missed peter jackson by 606 (2.00 / 0) #52 Tue Mar 07, 2006 at 09:07:12 AM EST
I think CBB would look quite sharp with that look. Personally I look more like Peter Jackson than CBB does. Actually I look like a Peter Jackson/George Lucas 50-50 mix. It's kind of scary.

-----
imagine dancing banana here
[ Parent ]
Solid colour tie??? by Bob Abooey (4.00 / 1) #44 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 09:02:16 AM EST
Lordy loo man.

I'm a big fan of multi-coloured pattern type ties. It's a nice way to let your freak flag fly while pretending to be The Man. Plus it's an easy and cheap way to get extra mileage out of a few suits without bringing attention to the fact that your suit library is limited.

Warmest regards,
--Your best pal Bob

You’re an inspiration CheeseburgerBrown by duxup (4.00 / 1) #47 Mon Mar 06, 2006 at 07:24:18 PM EST
Not in that sort of weird 1970s / 1980s Chicago the band way.  In the good way.
____
The Bohemian Chrysalid, Part I | 52 comments (52 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback