Long ago, I sold fine jewelry for a living. A big, burly fellow came in with a coat made of some kind of rugged fur, a bushy beard, a weathered leather hat and he looked pretty rough. None of my sales team made a move to help him. I jumped right in and welcomed him, talked to him for a little bit, learned about what he was after, and discovered that he'd just won a huge chunk of change at the casino in the next state. He was looking to commemorate his win so I sold him a giant - GIANT - men's diamond ring. Which he paid thousands in cash for. I was the store manager so no commission for me, but man, were my commissioned sales folks kicking themselves! What was our Saturday morning training session about that following weekend? Not judging people! It's necessary to watch for the twitchy indications of a shoplifter or diamond-switcher, but something else altogether to avoid serving someone for not looking like you think they should!
I believe that appearance matters. I'm not saying that it should, but I think of myself as a realist and in my experience, looks are valued.
The funniest time I was judged on my appearance: I was doing some freelance work as a merchandiser in my mid-20s and was setting up a front window display for a local boutique. I was wearing a vintage-style hoodie with heavily distressed designer jeans. Afterwards, I was sitting in a courtyard area adjacent to the boutique sipping on a bubble tea latte... when an older gentleman started talking to me and told me that his church has resources to help homeless teenagers like myself.
Yep, this stranger came up to me and told me I looked like a teenage runaway.
And, my husband just reminded me of the time one of our neighbors asked me if I was our dog's dog walker. THAT was hella awkward.
I've been judged. I mean, all the time when I was growing up. I went through a lot of "looks" per say when trying to find myself. Now, there is something about my look that deems me "unapproachable" as I've been told from a few people. It could just be my RBF. Who knows. Lol.
Almost 20 years ago, I was called a ma'm, wherever I went, because of the extra weight and I guess not paying much attention to myself, since I was a busy mom, running after two kids
And now, I'm never called ma'm, it's Miss Or bella or senorita. I call it aging in reverse
I get told I look old fashioned sometimes. Kids used to pick out my flaws at school because I wasn't super thin like the rest and I have small ears.. Kids are idiots
It's not quite as dramatic, but as a 6'2", fairly broadly built 230-pounder, people keep asking me what position I played in high school. Then they get this really funny look when I tell them "I switched back and forth between bari and first alto".
Before that, when I was in middle school and not quite as big but still big for my age, one of my classmate's mothers remarked to my mother (perhaps unknowingly) that "the big ones usually aren't that smart". That made it feel unusually satisfying when I would keep pace with and, at times, outpace her kid in the classroom. Most of the time, I don't care about stuff like that. But when she said that to my mom, it was game on.
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So what if it is true.
The funniest time I was judged on my appearance: I was doing some freelance work as a merchandiser in my mid-20s and was setting up a front window display for a local boutique. I was wearing a vintage-style hoodie with heavily distressed designer jeans. Afterwards, I was sitting in a courtyard area adjacent to the boutique sipping on a bubble tea latte... when an older gentleman started talking to me and told me that his church has resources to help homeless teenagers like myself.
Yep, this stranger came up to me and told me I looked like a teenage runaway.
And, my husband just reminded me of the time one of our neighbors asked me if I was our dog's dog walker. THAT was hella awkward.
I can't imagine how awful that has to be.
and of course i get judged based on my appearance everyone does
Sir, you've been randomly selected...
Like I'm carrying a gun or wearing some sort of vest under my sweater.
What's "DIA" dude?
And now, I'm never called ma'm, it's Miss Or bella or senorita. I call it aging in reverse
Before that, when I was in middle school and not quite as big but still big for my age, one of my classmate's mothers remarked to my mother (perhaps unknowingly) that "the big ones usually aren't that smart". That made it feel unusually satisfying when I would keep pace with and, at times, outpace her kid in the classroom. Most of the time, I don't care about stuff like that. But when she said that to my mom, it was game on.