The Wit of the Staircase
16 June 2009 at 2:42 pm

I'm at work at a bar on Friday night. I'm busy, I'm exhausted, and I'm dealing with blacked-out drunks, bitchy coworkers, the bar boss' birthday, the regulars, the underagers, everything, everything that goes into supporting my lifestyle the way I see fit.

Later that night, after criticizing a few of my customers as to their career ambitions, some chick says, completely unsolicited: "You know, if I were you -- how can I put this delicately? I might reconsider my wardrobe choices."

If I told you that I was wearing a tank top and jeans, I wouldn't be lying. If I told you that I was wearing a v-neck camisole and tight black jeans, I'd be telling more of the truth. If I told you that I was directing attention towards my cleavage, I'd be downright honest.

I can't even dignify this bitch with a response, so I smile hugely and walk away and spend the next week working on my espirit d'escalier.

[I neglect to tell her about the study I did last year about how much more money I make when I wear the pushup bra I'm not wearing right then, which is 30% and I have the excel charts to prove it.]

I'd reconsider my wardrobe choices if I changed my style to make more money, but I wear the same outfits to work at this job that I wear to go work my other jobs, to make a deposit at the bank, to fly to Spain, to bake a pie.

So, little lady, I have considered my wardrobe choices, and I am just fine with them. THANKS.


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About me
Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.