Trench: thrifted. Eyelet Dress: Forever 21. Leggings: Old Navy. Shoes: JC Penney. Necklace: H&M.
For the past year -- a bit more -- since I graduated from college, I've stuck to my guns and worked my nose to the grindstone trying to land a great career in fashion. I picked up a few odd jobs here and there to pay the bills in between, but nothing I wanted to be "stuck" in-- too grueling, too underpaid, run by demeaning psychos-- but I was willing to take it while I was there because I had my eye on the prize. And while I still haven't found that perfect career, I have found something that-- when compared to the horrifying roster of positions out there in the world-- is pretty damn close.
Here, I make good on my promise to wear more watches. This one I consider to be more flattering to my short and wide arm proportions, because it's clear (I got it from Filene's in Union Square). I have a beautifully long relationship with clear accessories (just not bags... I trash the inside of them to much for that!
I'm working for the government. I have a regular schedule, I can walk to work if I want, I get an hour's lunch, nobody breathes down my neck, everybody likes my culinary contributions to the office potluck. I get paid enough, I get Memorial Day off. I get to wear cute shoes and I have my own desk with a key. I don't lock it, but I keep some English muffins, peanut butter, hair stuff and packets of oatmeal in there. People say hi to me. I put on my crappy sneakers at lunch and go roaming to find a new Jamaican place. I come back and Facebook a little before it's time to clock back in. I leave at 5 and can meet any of my friends for dinner or drinks if I want, or go home and work out, or go home and watch TV with the cat. It is, in the parlance of 2006, bossy.
Today, I was offered a position doing something more in line with fashion, but for half of what I'm making now, and with a variable schedule. And it pained me, but for the first time in my life, I told them that I had a salary requirement, and if it couldn't be met, I couldn't work there. At a different time in my life, I would have said, "Screw it, I'm being more true to me by doing something for work that is more in line with my passion. So, I'll suffer a little."
And while working in the field you feel most passionate about is certainly the ideal, there's something to sticking with a job that is giving you what you need to carry out the rest of your life to plan-- enough money, enough time, enough respect. To that end, and for whatever it's worth (eh... $20? No, $50!) this post is dedicated to the women who are filing a class-action lawsuit against Wal-Mart for consistently paying women employees less than men. I know I'm going to be paying strict attention to how this one turns out...