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All I Want for Christmas is a Cute Work Outfit

To some, serving at a swanky, upscale steak place means selling $60 hunks of cow and $300 bottles of Cab. To me, it means finding the inner strength, shift after shift, to don my uniform, i.e. a white button-down shirt and black pants, i.e. the worst outfit ever. Fine, white button-down shirts (I’m sick of typing that phrase already, let’s just call them WBDs) are practical, particularly if they’re cut as well as the one I snagged at the Banana Republic Factory Store for $35.

Fine, BCBG black pants are standard JAP garb and mine only cost me $50 (thank you, Atlantic City outlets). But too many black pants and WBDs render one’s wardrobe a battered, desert wasteland void of creative capital. The only thing that depresses me more than owning four pairs of black pants and six WBDs is that I actually have to wear this shit. And there is nothing worse for a JAP - cheap or otherwise - than being forced to wear the same effing outfit every goddamn day. I mean, it’s not waterboarding, but I’m totally drowning in wardrobe monotony here.