I can't write about recruiting today.
I actually had an A-OK day, there was a cheering level of common sense displayed, candidates were pleasant and intelligent and I don't hate them all today.
But I still have about two hours of dayjob work to do and then another hours of secretjob work to do, so although I feel somehow obligated to try to make some kind of post everyday, the only thing that is recruiting-related that I could write about is a little complicated. And the idea of that makes my head hurt.
So I'm briefly wavering on my pointlessly self-imposed restriction to keep this blog to exclusively recruiting-related topics, at the risk of losing my two, possibly three, readers (Hi!!!).
What I want to talk about tonight, Reader(s), is clogs. Or, to be specific, Crocs. These things:
While I don't particularly care for these shoes, I also don't hate them with the same vehemence as some people. When it comes to shoes, I'm a lover not a fighter and so all my strong emotions are reserved for some deep, stereotypical, medulla-oblongata-generated, lustful passion for anything with a heel that looks like it scars hard wood floors.
You know, whatever, to each his/her own, and some people - rightly so - would prefer to not court the possible ankle-twisting and lower back pain associated with what Dianne Brill called "High Risk Shoes." Good for you.
But today I saw something I just did not get.
A dude in camouflage Crocs. And a camo tee shirt.
And this was no metrosexual. This was no hipster appropriation of camouflage. This was a big dude buying smokes and, I imagine, like beef jerky and American beer and something else to take with him wherever those kinds of people go with that stuff. Somewhere that you come back from with a large mammal strapped to something.
And I just kept staring at his feet. Because camo...CLOGS?
Like, if you are somewhere that you need camo...aren't you necessarily somewhere that you also need a FULL SHOE?
I dunno. It just really perplexed me.
Okie dokie, back to recruiting!