
The professor wears plaid clogs.Ā She strides into the conference room, bold black and gray swimming around feet sheathed in silver-threaded socks.Ā I tell her I like her style.Ā She tells me that every time she hits a professional milestone, she buys herself shoes.Ā She can stand in her closet and scan the trajectory of her career: her first publication shoes, her first edited volume shoes.Ā The plaid clogs?Ā Tenure-track shoes.
“What’s next?” I ask.
“Full professor, going up next year.”
“Have you scoped out the shoes?”
She shakes her head.Ā “Oh no, that would jinx it.”Ā Then she grins.Ā “Which is a total lie.Ā There are these boots,” she sort of moans.Ā “Boots and a whole new outfit to go with them.”
This concept mystifies me.Ā One friend picks out a fancy purse for every promotion or raise.Ā Coach, Kate Spade, Louis Vuitton.Ā Another takes herself on a cruise.Ā I clap along but something rankles.Ā We’re dogs now?Ā We get cookies for every well-timed wiggle?
Continue reading “Treat Jar” →