Casino sign revelation?

Today was one of those days I really just wanted to dress up. That was my mere request.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy. (At least I got the iron to work this morning; it had been giving me some trouble for the past few days, limiting me to non-ironable clothing... I discovered today that I'd been putting it in the outlet upside down. Problem solved.)



In joyfully obtaining a skirt to complete my ensemble, I thought to myself, so there. Journalists can have a sense of fashion, if they desire, so there. Journalists can run with the big dogs of business casual. So there!

(Disclosure: I am a journalist, and I work in a big city. That's all the context you should need for now.)

But anyway, I guess I forgot why journalists have gained the reputation for not necessarily dressing up all the time.

By the end of the day on my return home, I was lugging a laptop bag crammed with: a laptop; the empty container for my lunch; a coffee thermos and my water bottle; my phone charger; all the contents formerly in my nicer-looking, lighter bag I usually bring to work; plus the nicer-looking bag, on one shoulder.

On my other shoulder, I was lugging a chunky camera bag that weighed probably half as much as I do.

For the record, I had condensed my carry-ons from three to two bags in order to look, you know, more acceptable.

Ha.

But in the end it didn't really do very much. With the undignified presence of all my parcels about me, my clothes got rumpled and wrinkled, my hair flew everywhere since I lacked the hand freedom to push it out of my face, and I lost heart in my abilities to have an acceptable presence to end my day.

Then, passing a glitzy animated casino sign that proclaimed "Do what you like! Get what you love!" I pondered the gravity of those words in terms of my personal situation.

I'm doing what I like. I'm a journalist. I'm getting what I love (payment for my efforts, I suppose; maybe some bylines...). I think that philosophy is somewhat flawed, but then again, it came from an advertisement for a casino.

I enjoy what I do, but there are some days, like today, when I arrive at my apartment after an exhausting evening of traffic to heat up a can of chicken noodle soup (mmh, though it does hit the spot splendidly), when I realize I'm not doing this for the surface details.

I'm not doing this to be able to claim best-dressed journalist in town, or most-published journalist in the city. Not even doing it for the enviable journalist's paycheck ;)

I'm doing it for the people I encounter each day, in order to share their stories and help them feel important in this big game of life. I don't really need to look 100% put together, 100% of the time to do that.

This type of career isn't really about what you can get out of it, though it can frequently be a twofold outcome.

Obviously, I'm still going to try to have a suitable presentation wherever I go when working. That's just professional. But when it's just one of those days and I spill tea on myself prior to having a nice big interview with some important person, or realize that I've worn the same outfit the last three times I've run into that important person, I can't sweat these "small things."

Sometimes, you've just got to let these things go.