When I was in college, I worked part-time at a newspaper to help pay for my tuition and books but to also gain experience; I was planning to be a journalist when I graduated. One evening, my co-worker (who was also a college student) and I were manning the phones when Marjorie walked by, wished us goodnight and then left the building. Marjorie was my boss’s boss, and many of us college kids were in awe of her. With her tailored suits, sleek heels and chic, short haircut, she looked as if she could have stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. She was the definition of sophistication and elegance. We all wanted to be like Marjorie.
I remember my friend sighing as she walked by that evening. Then she said, “When I get a real job, I’ll have a closet just like hers, and all of my clothes will have to be dry cleaned.”