Okay, settling in at the new job a little. I feel like I have a lot in common with the person who is going to work the evening shift with me: and idea at least partially based on the veiled paniced look we gave each other when we met ( "Oh, God, I have to spend 8 hours with this person! I hope she's nice!") She's soft spoken and rather quiet, though not unfriendly so I feel pretty good about it.

My boss hasn't been around much because the company is in the middle of its yearly charity drive and she has been very occupied with committee work. I don't get the impression that she's ditched me, just ....

that she's been really busy. So I'm being trained by my co-workers on the day shift, the most senior of home just got promoted out of the department and is leaving next week. I think they haven't exactly made up their minds about me, which is okay. You can't get to know somebody overnight, and fake "insta - friendships" can be kind of scarey. I'd rather put the time and effort into getting to know people and letting them get to know me.

What I feel mostly is like a hick from the sticks. This would be because I AM a hick from the sticks, at least compared to the ladies who come from the more sophisticated suburbs of Washington D.C. Not surprisingly, my clothes are all wrong.

This doesn't surprise me because, no matter what, my clothes are always all wrong. Also, I get dressed at the Goodwill, so there's a little disconnect between me and "fashion". I've never paid any attention to what is "in" to wear, except if that has been a tacit part of my job description (i.e. when I sold tile or furniture. You want to get advice on that stuff from someone who looks at least partially with it)

And, I've decided that it's important to fit in. I know what you're going to say "just focus on doing a good job and you'll be fine." That should be true, but in my experience, it isn't. Keep in mind that in my last two jobs-in-boxes, the problem was not related to the work I was doing: it was ALL about not fitting in. It's important, at work, to as much as possible, be "part of the tribe". Many experts, such as the outsourcing firm Challenger, Gray & Christmas, say that the "likeability factor" is crucial in who gets laid off in times of corporate trouble. So that means emphasising what I have in common with the people around me and not placing a lot of weight on the things that make me such a rare bird.

Don't get me wrong. This winged creature will always be plenty "real"! But there's nothing wrong with sprucing up the old wardrobe a little bit, or at least paying enough attention to remember to wear make up and stick earrings in. It wouldn't kill me for my style, such as it is, to become a little more urban and sophisticated.

Where I'm furthest out of style is with shoes. Unlike many women, I hate shoes. I hate wearing them, I hate buying them, I hate having them. My feet are my dirty ( to say nothing about smelly) little secret. Sure, I've got these great, long slender fingers with naturally tough nails. To make up for it, God decreed that I have "peasant feet": sqwat, extra wide, high instepped, stubby toed and almost uniformly accross the top square feet. High arches usually go with long slender feet and tapering toes. It is almost impossible to find shoes that fit both a wide width and a high arch. To say nothing about the issue caused by the general "squareness" of my feet.

Add to this the fact that I adamently refuse to pay more than $20 for a pair of any kind of shoes and you can get a pretty good idea of what's in my closet. It's old, it used to belong to someone else, or it's beat all to hell. It's not just because I'm cheap - though of course, I AM cheap. It's because with the way I have to walk I go through any shoes in record time - even the few times I've tried expensive pairs. Shoes aren't made to be walked in the way I have to walk to keep my balance, and both of my feet drag a little even with the cane.

But, all that having been said, I decided to oil the hinges on my wallet and spring for new shoes most closely resembling the footwear I saw around me on the job. I planned to join the Tribe of the Pointy Toed Shoes.

After trying on almost everything in the ladies department at Target, which was a workout and a comedy routine, I bought the pair that fit the least badly. It's really hard to tell how shoes are actually going to fit, since you can't really walk around in Target shoes - they're strung together by little bits of elastic. You can kind of two step, which meant I could stagger around in a pair for a few minutes, switching my cane from side to side to accomodate whichever foot /leg was least happy in the new shoes. The pair I bought are mules - that means they don't have any backs. THAT means that my feet slide around in them most unpredictibly.

It's a good thing I walk with a cane. If I didn't, I wouldn't be able to walk in these shoes at all.

Still, I'm determined. There are some things that set me apart that I can't do anything about. I just hope I don't fall off my shoes and kill myself.