The Girl With The Mismatched Socks

Thought I'd take a stab at some fiction again.We'll see how I do


Have you ever done something just once, seriously just once, and that becomes your whole identity? Part of the problem is when you do it and I did this thing on my first day at a new job; I wore mismatched socks. Now we're not talking about you're typical I got dressed in the dark and accidentally picked up one brown dress sock and one black dress sock, oh no, this indiscretion was far worse. Having never grown out of my cute funky socks phase once puberty hit, I had an array of socks more properly suited for a six year old. It also helped that I could still fit into children's shoes. If only the rest of my body had stayed child size, but I digress. On that day I wore a gay pride rainbow sock on my left foot and a brown teddy bear sock on my right foot.

Don't you dare try to give me the benefit of the doubt. Although I do appreciate you making sweet excuses for me like "she was in a rush" "she's color blind or just plain blind" "she's borderline mentally retarded", nope not the case at all. I suffer from this affliction called LazinessIDon'tgiveashit. It's one word, I spell checked it. I mean it's socks, how big a deal is it really? They didn't hire me because of my socks, no guy ever wanted to violate me because of my socks, and I certainly didn't graduate with high honors because of my socks.

On this first day at my impressive new job (details later), I did wear nice black slacks and a navy blue collared shirt. My hair was combed and neatly pulled back. Simple silver tear drop earrings. I even wore virtually scuff free black loafers. My pants were long enough to cover up the socks. No one would see the socks, or so I thought.


The job was a call center for a nationally known health insurance company. For privacy reasons I can't disclose the name or I have been told I'll be assassinated. They hired a training class of twenty-one. Why not twenty or twenty two? Because twenty one of us impressed them THAT much during the interview process. Also in part these places tend to over hire because they know at least three won't make it passed training and half of the remaining people will realize six months in that we're far underpaid for the bullshit we're expected to deal with, and they'll quit. Why that was a run on sentence! I'm good at those, did I mention I was an English major in college? Yes a college degree with high honors and the best I could do was a call center job for $12.50/hour at BCBS. Shit, I said the name...just forget I mentioned it and let's move on.

That first day waiting in the lobby with the other future cubicle farmers I did what everyone else was doing; make blatant judgments about the other people around me. Bleached blond, huge tits, tight dress couldn't hack it as a porn star. What? You think that was mean? She was wearing a rhinestone necklace that actually said Pornstar. Yup, and my mismatched socks was clearly a bad choice. Indian girl with thick glasses and long braided hair. Wait are they now bringing outsourcers in? If so if that called in-sourcing? Older gentleman in very sharp suit, too sharp for this crap job, probably former CEO that lost his job during Bush administration. He's disgruntled and one day will come in with a gun to take us all out. I awkwardly smile at him telepathically saying "I'm cool if you kill the others, just please leave me alone. I'm a single mom to five cats". More on the cats another time. The other people were various slots to fill in various quotas including someone in a wheel chair who was an African American female, think she filled six quotas alone! She'll never get fired, probably has the EEOC on speed dial.

Then it happened. I made the HUGE mistake of scratching my dry legs. Why don't I ever use lotion? Oh, cause my mom told me I should. Left leg first exposing gay pride sock, right leg second exposing teddy bear sock. Disgruntled suit guy stifles a laugh as he announces to the room, "Look at those socks! How old are you?" Everyone stares, a few more laugh. Now I'm thinking maybe I'll be the one to take everyone out and I know who'll be first.

I didn't have a name. For the rest of training I was affectionately referred to as socks. I even tried a cute skirt with pantyhose a couple of times, but my identity had already been branded. I guess it could have been worse if they knew about my five cats or the unsightly mustache I have to get waxed on the regular or that I lost my virginity at a Hanson concert. I could have been Crazy Cat Bearded Lady Mmmmm'Bop. So I'll count my blessings.

Stay tuned for the crazy antics that go on once I leave training and actually start the job.