Despertar

how i roll

I wear flip-flops with everything. I don't care. My feet don't get cold.

Especially here, where the dress code is so West-Coast casual that twice I've gotten confused and thought it was Friday. Every day of the week, there are at least a dozen people wearing jeans. The women show tons of cleavage.

I don't believe in wearing jeans to an office, and my mom must have warned me five times not to show any cleavage at work, ever, particularly not when I have a male boss. So I feel like I can wear flip-flops to work once in a while, if I want to.

I'm wearing them today. With black slacks and a tight white button-down unbuttoned over a fitted white camisole. I look slutty from the waist up, businessy from waist to ankles, casual from the ankles down.

*

Of course, I was already out the door, my clothing choices for the day already irreversible, when i remembered about Allison. Allison is the other law student who'll be sharing my position at work through the end of July. Today is her first day.

My first reaction, when my boss told me she was coming, was "Where [the fuck] is she gonna sit?" Said with a total stank face, which, for those who aren't familiar, is the face one makes when one smells something nasty. Eyebrows furrowed, one lip raised. The face was involuntary, subconsciously meant to communicate that I do not want to share my desk with some chick with whom I'm going to spend the summer locked in competition for my supervisor's approval.

When I realized how I looked and sounded, I relaxed my face immediately. I don't think he noticed my displeasure, but maybe he did this morning, when he reminded me: "Allison will be here at eight; maybe you can let her in and show her where things are. I'm gonna take her out to lunch"--which he did for me, my first day, so my little jealous flare-up was totally irrational--"and then after that we can all meet and start divvying up your responsibilities."

For the second time, my face betrayed my feelings, except that this time, it was one of horror, because my intention had been to dress really nicely on Allison's first day, to look sleek and pulled together and dominant, so that if one of us is going to emerge as the Alpha Bitch intern, theoretically it could be me.

But no, I forgot and wore flip-flops. God damn it.

*

She, meanwhile, is wearing dress pants, a nice brown sweater and a killer pair of black heels. She is also four years older than I am, with a whole extra degree and work experience under her belt.

So she wins this battle, but the war is just beginning. Academic apathy notwithstanding, in work environments, I HATE not being the best. I love achievement, I love praise, I love constructive criticism, I love supervisory attention, I love knowing I can call on an old boss for a reference later.

It's completely immature and underevolved, but right now, it's how I roll.