I interviewed for a consulting job Thursday at their Pittsburgh headquarters.
First, MY FEET ARE KILLING ME. My black “fashion” boots with two inch heels look great but after two miles (it seemed) of walking, I was considering mugging a teen for her Yukluks.
The teen was spared when I found the Southwest Airlines waiting area and sat across from three women of middle-age. They wore nearly identical navy suits (one had pink on the collar). They carried similar purses and computers and overnight bags, wore sensible shoes, and their hair of various styles had been sprayed so well that a Chicago wind would not have disturbed a follicle.
They appeared unaware of my observation, because their eyes never left their Blackberries while they talked to each other.
Then I realized with growing unease…. They were CONSULTANTS.
I had just interviewed for a consulting role for which I would travel often. I’m waiting for the final word from my interviewers. If my feet (now healing) and my patience survive, however, the big question remains:
WILL I BECOME A STEPFORD CONSULTANT?
I carry a sparkly purple wallet inside my conservative travel bag. I pulled it out and whispered, “At least I have you.” But the power of the purple seemed weak in comparison to the aura of similar pink lipsticks.
Perhaps I just had a horrible flashback to the seventies, but I am…. afraid….