Save Me From the Uniform

Ahhh, I can smell the fear, insecurity and desperation permeating the air. That scent isn't coming from a lonely speed dater, well not at the moment anyway, its coming from the thousands of job hunters in the world. Will we get the job? Are we qualified? Pleasant enough? Good-looking enough? Will I make the rent this month?

I find myself in line with the masses, trying to find a niche; a job that doesn't suck, that wont degrade me or put me in jail. I have reached such a point of utter unhappiness at my current day job that I am willing to consider any job that doesn't involve one simple thing: a uniform.

Perhaps it was the few years I spent in elementary school, looking like every other kid on the playground or maybe it was the few years I worked behind a Starbucks counter slinging lattes like they were liquid crack at over eager, hopped up, grumpy jerks. Whatever reason I can come up with, the fact remains that I have a phobia of any type of uniform. If forced to wear black or blue slacks and a collared shirt, I will go ape-shit crazy and throw something. No question about it.

Anything remotely resembling a Polo shirt makes my skin crawl and my throat begin to close uncomfortably (I am pretty sure I'm allergic to anything resembling 'preppy'). I am very fond of the color black, really I am, but if I am forced to wear black pants as part of a job, I'd as soon light the slacks on fire before I put them anywhere near my body. Dramatic? Probably. True? Definitely.

As much as I loathe to get anywhere near an establishment that forces me into a uniform to satisfy some whacked-out image of what customers find appealing, my options are not plentiful. After shifting through job listing after job listing with side notes ranging from, professional appearance required to Business Casual is the name of the game here, I came to a horrifying realization.

Almost everyone wears a uniform in the work force. Not just the McDonald's burger flippers or the Wal-Mart greeters, oh no, everyone does to a certain extent.

So a partner in a law firm doesn't have to wear an unattractive visor and a name-tag, but he has to wear a three piece suit with Italian leather shoes to be taken seriously. A doctor has to wear a white coat to distinguish himself from the crowd just in the way that grocery store workers wear aprons over their uniform.

It is so ingrained in society that we hardly notice that there is in fact a dress code for life. Damn it!

I am smart, savvy and damn good at working with people, but I know that if I were to look for a job in what I am comfortable in, I would get the boot in the ass out the door. I favor jeans and v-neck tees. I do not wear pencil skirts and long-sleeve blouses with a strand of pearls around my neck. I wear Chucks and flip-flops. I would tower over anyone in heels and look like incredibly silly if I had to wear them every day to work.

I have a had my nose pierced since I was sixteen and fought tooth and nail to keep it in during my high school days where any jewelery was strictly forbidden. I have a lip ring that is fairly new but much beloved and I don't think I should be looked at differently because I have a penchant for body decoration. The fact that there are a couple pieces of metal in my face doesn't stop me from providing excellent customer service or from knowing more than you do.

Why is it necessary to look like something from an Banana Republic or J.Crew catalogue to be taken seriously in the work world? Why do people assume that if you look like an up-tight WASP you must be intelligent and hard-working? Why does someone who has visible body art or jewelry get looked at like they are sub-human?

The point in this rant is quite simply this; there is a uniform for life
(I hope you got the memo that I missed) and it is boring. Good luck trying to be yourself and have a decent job. Forget individuality and head over to J.Crew to stock up on the 'appropriate' garments; I hear there is a sale on Saturday.