"Can you get that?"
Fortunately I do not prance around NYC like this
With a crowd of employees such as this, my office has developed an
inspector’s dress code. On my first day of work my boss sat me down and laid
out the rules:
-No t-shirts with swear words
-No do-rags
-No t-shirts with fake blood pouring out of fake bullet holes
That’s it. Apparently these particular rules exist because inspectors
have worn all said items while on the job. I take that to mean
anything else is a green light.
No do-rags? Damn! Now I will never be able to look as cool as Justin.
I wear my normal, regular clothes on the job—dresses/skirts that barely
pass the Catholic schoolgirl test? Obvi. Open toed sandals? Why not. Shockingly
bright eye shadow? No question! Even as a mold inspector, NYC will not allow
you to sacrifice style for function. Not that I’d ever want to regardless, I’d
probably be mean-mugged to death by Chelsea’s swarms of models, dancers, and
stylish yuppies if I dared appear in public wearing work boots and field gear. No thank you!
Arriving at a job site announcing I’m the mold inspector often
provokes a double take and prompts statements like, “You are definitely not what I
was expecting”, “…But you’re a girl?”, or “Who knew the mold inspector would be so
pretty!”. I’ve also had my fair share of “You go girl!” and “Girl power!”
remarks from aging second-wave feminists. One time a man in Corona, Queens
blurted out, “DAMN! You’re sexy!” and then proceeded to stare at my chest the
entire inspection. Needless to say I quickly zipped my jacket back up on that particular
occasion…
Photo credits: Nickelodeon, Rocko's Modern Life, murderati.com
Photo credits: Nickelodeon, Rocko's Modern Life, murderati.com
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