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

I Brake for Style

I was driving through campus the other day, when I stopped to let a twenty-something woman in a soft gray blouse and an emerald green mini paired with floral-print slingback peep-toes pass through one of Indiana State's eighty-four thousand crosswalks. It was seriously one of those looks that you should find in one of Cosmo's "looks from the street" articles, one that felt so springy and chic and cute you wanted to erase everything written in your planner for the afternoon so you could speed off to Macy's or Bloomie's and buy something similar in every color possible*, so naturally, I stopped to let her cross the street (AKA so I could admire the artwork that was her outfit).

A few seconds later, I was approaching another crosswalk (there are at least seventeen for every block), when I saw a girl coming closer to the street--a girl in a worn T-shirt, a pair of dirty, nasty sweatpants, and some unmemorable tennis shoes. Needless to say, I didn't stop.

And it wasn't that I consciously thought "Good Lord, who goes in public like that?" or anything--I honestly don't remember having any such specific thoughts at all. It really wasn't until a little later (when, I admit, I was still daydreaming about those floral peep-toes) that I even realized what I had done--and hadn't done. I had stopped to let a cutely-dressed girl walk across the street, but I had sped through the crosswalk when it was someone dressed like crap. And I don't really think it's the first time I've done it.

In short, I'm fashion-ist. Or style-ist. Or prejudiced against style-less people. Whatever you want to call it.

Now, I understand there are those certain situations you absolutely have to run somewhere for a second or two--a quick trip to the creepy gas station down the street for hangover-curing Gatorade or something--and you don't have the time to take off your dirty, nasty, ex-boyfriend's sweatpants** whose waistband is missing the elastic and that you have to hold up like a ballgown so you don't trip over them when you walk and change into something appropriate for wearing in public. But let's be honest here. Does it really take more than two seconds to throw on a pair of jeans? And is there really any situation where such a level of sloppy clothing is appropriate?***

Overall, all I'm saying is that it's easier to be nice to people and to respect people when they're dressed nicely or chicly or with some kind of style--guys, this means you, too. Which really means that it's easier for people to be nice and to respect you when you're dressed to impress.

So the next time you're headed somewhere--a job interview, the grocery store, whatever--maybe, just maybe you should leave those nasty, dirty sweatpants at home and put on some clothes that don't make the neighbors start a petition to declare you a community eyesore.

On second thought, just burn them.







*Not that that was an option for me--the sad excuse of what Terre Haute terms a "mall" would offer nothing even remotely close to the artistic masterpiece this girl had on. It's practically like living in a town with no stores at all. Which I've done. But that's another story.

**I realize this sounds like I'm calling your ex-boyfriend dirty and nasty, but that's not the case. I'm referring to the sweatpants he left at your house one time that are so comfortable and worn-in (obviously guy clothes are more comfy than girl clothes) that you still reach for them whenever you're lounging around. Although, for all of you out there whose ex-boyfriends are also dirty and nasty, I'm clearly referring to them as well. You're welcome.

***Clearly, if you're sleeping or maybe if you're on the way to the gym, your clothing choices aren't quite as important. Or if you've permanently taken up residence on your sofa in front of the TV in said ex-boyfriend's sweatpants while the Lifetime Movie Network spews out daily marathons of anti-male made-for-TV "Lifetime Original Movies," eating your miserable, pitiful feelings about said ex-boyfriend (You know who you are. Stop now.).