Thigh-high boots and a Tupperware job...

Marianne and I were hanging out in her bedroom - me sitting on the bed and she perusing her closet, furiously looking for something to wear to an upcoming job interview.
Now, while Marianne has all the qualities one would hope to find in a good friend - such as someone who will candidly tell you when you have spinach lodged between your front teeth - her closet-organization skills leave a little to be desired. So instead of just thumbing through hangers of garments and pulling out the appropriate matching shoes, it was more like watching a feeding frenzy of Kmart customers during a blue-light special...
As she leaned into the closet, she began hurling shoes behind her, much like football players do when they hike the ball between their legs at the beginning of a play.
I watched with interest as various shoes began to fly through the air - none which seemed to have a mate.
"THERE!" I pointed out. "The black suede thigh-high boots! Now THOSE will get you the job for sure!
"You think so?" she turned around and stared at the boots.
"Well, yeah," I said. "And the fact that they seem to be the only matching 'pair' in the whole bunch."
Because Marianne has been busy raising kids most of her adult life and has not been in the work force in many years, her knowledge of appropriate dress and proper interview skills were, shall we say, a little rusty. When she asked me to help her prepare, I suggested we do a little "role-playing" in which I would interview her and pose questions typically asked by prospective employers.
"Now Mrs. Smith," I said, giving her a fictious name. "Can you tell me a little about your past employers and employment history?"
"Oh GAWD," she said, avoiding my eyes and checking her makeup in a compact from across the table. "Which JERK do you want to know about? That stupid drycleaners that fired me just because I kept the wad of cash I found in some guy's suit pocket? Can you even BELIEVE that?"
"I see," I said, thinking maybe she just needed to warm up to the whole interview process a bit. "Can you give me an example of some of the five-year career goals you would foresee with our company?"
"Five YEARS???" she asked incredulously, almost choking on the wad of gum she had just popped into her mouth. "Who the hell plans to stay at the same job for five YEARS? I need some quick cash, toots. So, let's get down to the point and talk money."
I looked at Marianne, who at this point was slumped in her chair and had begun to clean her fingernails with a pocket knife she found in her purse...
"What are some of your strengths and weaknesses?" I asked, almost afraid to hear her response.
"I dunno," she shrugged evasively. "I show up, I work, I go home and I make dinner. The kids go to bed at eight...and then it's PAAARRRTTTYYY time!!!"
She stopped chewing on a ragged nail momentarily and finally looked me square in the eye.
"Do you want to know what my HUSBAND thinks my strengths are?" she said with an evil grin. "Or would you like to see my tatoo? I showed it to the last guy I interviewed with..."
I thought for a moment.
"Was, perhaps, this person's name 'Leroy' or 'Jerome?'" I asked politely.
"Nope. It was 'Stroke.'" she corrected me. "And he was FINE."
I pushed my chair away from the table, indicating the conclusion of our make-believe "interview."
"Marianne," I said seriously. "I don't know what kind of job you are applying for and I'm not sure that I want to know. But I can tell you that I sincerely hope it involves the sale of Tupperware or women's lingerie. You'd be a shoe-in..."