It's In the Bag

This cautionary tale began with a brief interaction with a new staff member in our staff lunchroom/ kitchen. A young Korean woman who, in my estimation, neither spoke nor understood the nuances of the English language enough to be working with dangerous, violent prisoners, asked me, "Do you work here?" I said I did, and after a pause she said, "You look homeless," an apparent acknowledgment of my "scruffiness." I openly admit that for me, a major perk of this job is that nobody cares how you dress. The only restriction in prison is wearing blue or orange, (and the issue of my hair, which is fodder for another post). My response to her: "You aren't the first to point this out. You should speak to my mother." This young woman shared with us at lunch that she had two rabbits at home , one as a pet, and one to eat. And she finalized her nomination for Miss Congeniality by painstakingly explaining to me the difference between Chinese, Japanese, and Korean women, and I how I "deserve" a Korean woman. The significance of this particular lunchtime discussion became more apparent on the Monday she didn't appear at the staff meeting, and we were unceremoniuosly informed that she had been, unfortunately, released by the university because she had a "problem with her visa." All of this, I might add, was and remains a rich source of amusement for my colleagues.

So, I usually carry all my daily "stuff" (e.g. my camera, iPod, keys, journals, articles, water, etc.) in a plastic bag. I'm generally not particular as to the brand of bag, though I lean toward the Gap and Old Navy when I need a sturdy container. But, believe me, a grocery store bag will suffice in an emergency. As you might imagine, carrying my things this way contributes to my colleague's continuing portrayal of me as "scruffy" and "homeless." My office roommate decided recently that I should cease my plasticity and get a Man Purse, and that the shopping should begin post haste.

Now, my brother, who has many more important things to carry than me, has a beautiful aged-leather bag, and I would add that he can afford such a fine accessory. Don't get me wrong, my brother is as scruffy as me, but in "designer scruff," while I would say Macy's is a significant leap for me. In fact, my mother marks significant life events with a Macy's gift card, which I end up carrying it forever because I can't find anything I want. Like the Clinkshrink, I'll throw on a scrub shirt to wear under the stab-proof vest, and all is well. So, buying an appropriate bag has been a week-long ordeal with which I have struggled.

I treked from store to store, eliminating briefcases, computer & camera bags; leather and nylon; cheap and expensive. God only knows if they make a Kevlar bag, but I'll bet somebody does. Each day I left the store empty-handed and dejected. So I was out tonight and decided it was to be found in Target, or nowhere. Surprisingly, they had a large selection, but leaning toward the briefcase/computer bag models. I picked up an "intermediate" nylon black computer bag thing, and it's done. But as I'm leaving the department, I come upon this. I read the specs and, hey, it's perfect. Downside? Pink or baby-blue. I compare it to the black computer bag. There is no choice here. I'm going with what I need, baby-blue, whatever. And the divine confirmation, the sign I had done the right thing: as I'm paying, for the very first time, a former prison patient is in a red vest and mopping in front of the restrooms! Schizoaffective and stable on meds. A tiny flash of annoyance that I spent a considerable time with his SSI application, but, hey, taxpayers will be pleased at his contirbution to our society. At least for tonight, it is he who has served me. He apparently did not recognize me.

My house roommate looks at my purchase and immediately says, "that is not masculine." I say to her, "They did have a G.I. Joe backpack. Would that have been more appropriate?" I strongly suspect this portends the reaction on Monday, but for now I am satisfied. Though I have yet to unpackage it. And I can always return it...