(this is me attempting to walk in those damn things)
So here I am, clomping around in these 3 ½ inch heels, which make me all of, WOO-HOO 5’7” exactly, and over-priced black pants that I would be able to wrap around the bottom of my foot twice if I weren’t wearing hooker heels, trying to fix some stupid technology problem on a PC desktop computer. As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t realistic to assume that I would be able to make that do anything other than start up. The way PCs work is so adverse to the way that I assume things work, that when I get hired to perform jobs at companies that refuse to use modern computers, my technological knowledge should be compared to that of a baby boomer, not a normal person my age. What I’m pretty sure I was trying to do was make sound come out of the computer. There’s only so many buttons you can reasonably push in this situation. So I’m punching buttons on this computer, silently wishing that one of them will make it blow up and injure me only enough to require prescription strength Ibuprofen, and coming to the cruel realization that just because you wear a grown up outfit, you will not magically be spared from having what you once naively assumed were college kid problems. Nope, they’re just people problems, turns out, and your cognac, celebrity-toed, imitation expensive shoes aren’t going to help you clomp away from them any faster. They cost $80, which is more than the US government paid me for spending 2 hours solving that problem. Actually, it’s more than the US government is going to pay me for enduring this WHOLE DAY. I’ll see you in hell, Bill Gates. You bring the Windows ’97. I'll bring these shoes.
