Breaking News: The Crocs Update

Oh no, the coincidences (yet still the disgust): An article from yesterday's New York Times is titled "'Crocs' and 'Style' in the Same Breath."

Is that your gag reflux kicking in, I hear? (It could just be mine.)

Read Said Article Now

(Thanks to @John_D_Fisher for supplying me with the [atrocious] article and for sharing my strong dislike of the nonsense that is the foam "shoe.")

Why Crocs Should Be Extinct (No, PETA, This Doesn't Concern You)

I'll be the first to admit it, I've owned (and, sadly, worn) some pretty hideous shoes in my day. I've worn light-up flip-flops, grandma boots, this pair of red and yellow floral-print mesh slip-ons from Mexico my sister proclaimed the "ugliest shoes she'd ever seen" the other day (she said this the other day because we were cleaning out old closets at home over Easter weekend. I don't wear them in real life. Swear.), and I owned jellies in about every color at one time or another, I'm sure (although they're making a comeback?).*

But on my life, on the career I don't have yet, and on the Coach Madison Floral Audrey handbag I'm absolutely dying to have, there is one shoe that has not, nor will ever be seen on any foot of mine.

The Croc.

Sure, they're "odor-resistant," relieving you from those smelly foot issues, "lightweight -- like they're not even there" for those of you who are wearing iron-plated boots with your suits of armor, and give "form-to-fit support...like a hug" to those of you who just weren't shown enough affection as a child.

And sure, they come in every color imaginable so you don't have to worry about those terrible times when your shoes don't match your sweatband or granny panty underwear,** and you can shop for them by "use" or by "lifestyle" (important business meeting? Don't leave home without your "stylish-looking yet comfortable" Mary Jane-ish Croc slip on! Hiking Pike's Peak? The multi-sport Trailbreak Jesus sandal is the one for you! 94 inches of snow barricading your front door? That shovel won't help you one bit if you aren't wearing your fleece-lined winter clog (fleece available in chocolate, black, oatmeal, or plaid, of course--or go for the versatile corduroy version!)).

And what could be better than a neon foam slipper thing--unless it's a neon foam slipper thing embellished with rhinestone flowers, your favorite Disney characters, a tribute to your sports team, or even a 3-D Jibbitz Shoe Charm? No shoe is EVER complete without personalizing its topside ventilation holes (included for extra airiness, of course)!

But seriously, guys. Unless you're nursing an endangered species back to life in your bedroom in your home in the swamps of the Florida Everglades,*** you should not have anything called a "croc" in your closet. Ever. Remember that.


(The 3D green triceratops Jibbitz. Priceless.)










* In my defense, these terrible, terrible occurrences all took place before the year 2000. Swear. Which means I didn't buy them myself and was rudely coerced into forcing them onto my tender, innocence feet. I blame you, Mom, for buying such atrocities. And you, Sister, for the hand-me-downs. And you, Henchman Holding Wrench...

** No offense, grandmothers of the world. You wear your granny panties with pride, and don't let anyone ever tell you any different.

*** Actually, no. Put the crocodile back. And the alligator. And the panther. They will eat you.

How to Get a Job 101

So I'm thirty-three days away from graduation (but who's counting?), and I feel, like most graduating seniors, that I have learned every single thing there is to learn about my major. And both my minors. I've learned everything, I've practiced everything, I've even gotten hands-on experience--the epitome of ISU's "experiential learning" motto--by making entire PR campaigns for companies in the community* and being an intern. In short, I'm already a pro.**

But as the days grow longer and the count grows shorter,*** I've come to the realization that in all the classes and experience and everything Indiana State includes in their undergraduate programs to prepare students for getting a job in the "real world," they've forgotten one tiny, insignificant thing.

How to actually get said job in said "real world."

Sure, they teach you what to do when you get there--writing, speaking, researching, blah blah blah. I can crank out a twenty-page research paper in under a day and a half.
Perfect.
I can supplement my disgustingly intriguing persuasive speech with a stellar PowerPoint presentation.
Lovely.
I can define pages upon pages of PR terms, explain marketing theories, draw you a detailed diagram of the communication model in my sleep.
Delightful.

But does that tell me when to start contacting employers or how often to call them back before they slap a restraining order on me for stalking them? Does it help me decide how much of my own style is "acceptable" to wear when meeting potential employers or interviewing?**** Is green nail polish okay? Will they take off points if I wear adorable confidence-inspiring hot pink stilettos instead of plain Jane boring black ones?

For all the money I shell out in tuition payments,***** you'd think they could at least teach us something useful.









* Read: slave labor

** Obviously, I should basically be starting out at the very least as a top-level manager (okay, you're right. I should be a CEO now.), but for some reason the Gods that Distribute Jobs don't seem to think nineteen years of schooling (counting two years of preschool, of course. That extra year really helped solidify my lego-building skills) is equal to the same amount of experience in an "actual" job. Go figure. (The jerks.)

*** And my job search continues to turn up empty...by the way, if you're reading this, my name is Hannah Shaner and I'm ambitious, motivated, and hard-working, seeking a creative fast-paced PR/marketing career, and can send you my fantastic resume on demand...

**** Okay, so they do have "interview dress" guidelines: http://www.indstate.edu/carcen/studentsAndAlumni/dress/default.aspx (Love you, Roomie!!). But seriously, suits make me vomit. And it is the 21st century.

***** Read: for all the money my parents shell out in tuition payments