For want of a sock, the kingdom was lost.

The BBQ Pit
1

I have a job interview less than eleven hours from now.

I have snappy pants, a shirt, and a nice tie laid out.

I have new shoes purchased to replace those eaten by Elenfair’s dog Zap which were purchased to replace those stolen in Montreal.

The alarm is set, cash to pay for parking is in the car and in my wallet, I’ll have more than enough time to wake up, walk the dog, get breakfast, shower, shave, dress, and beat rush hour downtown.

But there is one flaw. One critical flaw that may derail this entire endeavour. One flaw that may cost me everything, even my very life. Some may say that this flaw is inconsequential, but they are not fully cognizant of the dilemma.

While sorting laundry earlier, I noticed that I have fourteen distinct pairs of black socks. Actually, I shall amend that. I have fourteen distinct black socks, each missing its mate. As a result, I shall present myself at 9 am tomorrow for the job interview with mismatched socks.

Now, you may laugh, and say that no one would ever notice. Oh, to be true, if I stand stock-still, my socks are not visible as the cuffs of my slacks drape ever-so-gently past the tops of my shoes. However, if I sit and cross one leg over the other, then I expose an ankle, and by doing so, expose a sock.

Now, you may still be laughing, and say that without a second sock for comparison, the above situation poses no risk. And oh, to be true, if I sit with one leg crossed over the other and expose a single sock, then there is nothing to concern us. However, if I shift in my chair and cross the other leg, and thus expose the second ankle, then all is at risk. The interviewer may have an astute eye for detail and recall the previous sock, and thus notice that although they are both black they differ ever so subtly in pattern.

It is past 10 pm at night, and there is nowhere I can go to get a fresh pair of black socks. Nor will I have time in the morning tomorrow. I must forge ahead, exuding confidence, knowing that they can smell fear. I must not let this be my undoing.

Half a pair, half a pair,
Half a pair onward.

Mine is not to reason why. Mine is but to do and die.

Into the valley of the job interview rode the lno.

2

Good luck lno!

Why not skip the socks altogether? In fact, wear sandals. They’ll appreciate you thinking out of the box. We could use a forward-thinking individual like you in our organization, they’ll say. Very proactive. Very value-added. Let’s collaborate on a project, shall we?

3

I hate black socks. I only wear plain white sweat socks. Even when I’m wearing a suit. My mother finds it mortifying. Nobody else seems to notice.

4

Good luck lno, you’re no ordinary Joe.

5

Don’t cross your legs, it’s effeminate. Slouch in your chair in the correct manly fashion. Be sure to keep your knees wide apart, allowing your interviewer a good view of your package. Grunt every so often.

:smiley:

Good luck with the interview!

6

What kind of job are you interviewing for, Ino? Just wear white socks. If it’s a happens to be geek job, you should be be wearing white socks anyway.

Good Luck, lno!

7

Oh, Narrad, no worries about that. I don’t cross my legs with complete thigh contact of both legs – nope, just the ankle of one leg resting on the knee of the other, providing maximum display and aeration of the package. I just doubt I can last two hours without needing to ‘adjust’ myself.

I do have to say that this rant about a sock is the most tepid thing that’s come out of me since … since … since the habañero curry beef about a week ago.

8

Narrad just made me chortle in a way that was probably not too masculine. But not as much as the OP.

9

In all seriousness, you should not cross your legs during an interview.

10

Not if you’re male, that is.

11

If you’re married, the other sock is in your spouse’s sock drawer. Guaranteed. I steal 'em all the time! If you’re single - look behind the washer/dryer.
Please don’t wear white tube socks on an interview. No. No.
“New socks. Two socks. Whose socks? Sue’s socks.”

12

Geeze…you guys don’t know anything!!! And, of course, you wait till the last minute (cause you’re a guy), and when the clock is ticking, you run to us to solve your problem (cause you’re a guy)
And, of course, I have the perfect answer to solve your problem (cause I’m a girl)
Shave your legs…up to the kneecap (because shaving any further would be, well, just silly)
Spray paint your feet and ankles black. ( If you had’nt waited till the last minute (cause your a guy), I could have shown you how to use a white-out pen and do the “argyle” diamond pattern for ultimate trailer trash class)

You don’t have to thank me (not that you would, cause your a guy)
P.S…I had better not see a thread come up on “I’m a guy, how do I shave my legs? (TMI)”

13

Why not just run to Wal-mart before the interview and buy a pair of socks that match?

Or is this some guy thing that I’m not getting?

14

Who sews Sue’s socks? Sue sews Sue’s socks.

Sheesh. I can’t believe that I STILL remember that. I used to be able to recite that whole book by heart.

15

I can’t wear matching socks… they have to be odd…

16

I’m just wondering what happened to all the SockSpouses. I know you don’t go around making sock puppets at night (or do you…?), so that can’t be it. I’m afraid the culprit may be the cuddly little black-and-white barky thing that lives with you…

lno, dearest, it would perhaps help if Spanky stopped eating the heel off of your socks… :smiley:

“But why, oh why-” ask the children of straight dope, “Why doesn’t lno protect his socks from the little border collie sheltie cross?”

“That,” replied Elenfair, “is a very good question…”

17

Get your feet tattooed. Solve the problem.

18

You could request the interviewer dim the lights so it less noticable. Or hint that if he notices you’ll accuse him of having a fetish for feet and harassing you in the interview.

19

Or, you could throw away all your socks and buy 14 identical pairs.

20

Black shoepolish solves all problems. :smiley: