Over the years I’ve been asked to do interviews. Most of the time they go live (like this one on InThePowderRoom). But other times, for reasons not disclosed to me, the interview never surfaces. Which is fine, of course. This has happened about a dozen times. I never take it personally aside from setting up a fake Twitter account to troll the publication incessantly with tweets about how the head editor sleeps with livestock and may be involved in terrorist sleeper cell recruitment.

When a website reaches out for an interview, I spend a decent amount of time putting together my answers. I have pride in my work and I care very much what people think. Plus, they might have an audience that isn’t yet familiar with me (unlikely) and is hungry to develop an unhealthy fan obsession with my written words (likely).

This most recent “lost interview” happened a month ago. A website I wasn’t familiar with reached out. I never bothered to look up the site before launching into the silliest answers I could craft. After I finished I thought it might make sense to check out their website. This particular site seems to be comprised of  interviews with famous to barely-famous people. Since I’m in the “not famous at all” category, it became obvious to me that I was never going to see my dick jokes on their home page. And I don’t blame them. I’m sure the editor-in-chief had an intern email a bunch of bloggers and then when sthe intern pushed my answers across her boss’s desk, the boss went, “No – French people are boring. Pass.”

I did have a “star” moment a few months ago at a humor conference. I was there as an attendee and hanging out at a cocktail event on the first night. A woman came over with a pad and pen and interrupted a fabulous fourth trimester abortion joke that I was telling a group of people. She wanted an autograph. I thanked her for making me look like a big shot in front of my friends, then pulled her aside and told her if she ever interrupted me again I was going to remove the blade I carry in my sock and carve my autograph into her neck (neck tat jokes are very chic these days). She told me her name was Darlene so I wrote, “Marla – it was a pleasure meeting you. Nice tits! – D.J.”

Back to this most recent interview. Since I’m confident it’s not going to be published (it’s been over a month), I figured I’d share it with you here. Dolly Parton is currently their featured interview, and let’s face it, Dolly has a whole amusement park named after her and I do not. To go from Dolly one day to D.J. the next would be an admission that the site is folding. But let’s say that all the other interviews after Dolly fall through and they do publish mine. Odds are they’d whack up the content and not show you the best stuff. So, here’s the full, unedited session.

Since I’m not going to reveal the actual interview website, let’s pretend it was conducted by WeirdMexicanWrestlingMasksMonthly – a publication dedicated to the trends, styles, and fabrics of Lucha libre. You know,
those booths at your local street festival where tight fitting Latin face-masks are sold. I haven’t any clue who buys that crap (unless you are, in fact, a professional Mexican wrestler).

Complete Transcript of Interview with D.J. Paris by WeirdMexicanWrestlingMasksMonthly.

What is your full name?

D.J. Paris. Technically, that’s not my full name but you would think I was goofing around if I typed the whole thing out. Oh, and I’m a “third” as well.

It’s a long, Spanish name and kind of ridiculous. D.J. is easier.

Where do you live?

Lincoln Park, Chicago

If you were asked to describe yourself in one word, what would that word be?

Massivedong – that’s one word, yes?

What is your personal mantra? (The phrase in your heart and head that defines how your choices and how you live)

You can always be richer and thinner. Seriously, I believe that fulfillment comes from effort. Since all that we can control in this world is our own action, that’s what ultimately defines my happiness. The more I do, the better I feel.

Briefly tell us about you and your life.

I have a marketing job which eats up my daily 9am – 5pm. Since I love my career and get to bring my dog to the office I blog at night and on weekends.

What is the name of your blog? When was it launched?

ThoughtsFromParis. It launched April of 2010.

Share with us the primary focus of your blog and what you hope to accomplish through it.

As a writer I focus in three areas – humor, vulnerability, and truth. I write about my own life incorporating those three characteristics into each piece.

What I’m trying to do is find a way to entertain myself though writing. My goal when I sit down to write is that I want to read it back the next day surprised at my own brilliance. I wish I was joking.

List any blogger awards you have won.

I’ve never applied for a blog award so I have no idea. I think I’ve been nominated and won some stuff, but don’t ask me to remember specifics. Most recently I’m going to be the keynote speaker at BlogU this June.

Are you a Brand Ambassador and if so, for which companies?

Occasionally I’ll do a campaign for a brand but only if I’m a huge fan. In most instances I’ll contact the brand directly and tell them my idea. 95% of the time they don’t write back. Jerks.

Which social media outlet do you find most helpful? (Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram, Twitter, etc)

For me it’s Twitter. I have almost 150k followers. This sounds impressive until you realize that Paris Hilton (the other famous Paris) has 14 million followers. She’s also the highest paid DJ in the world. I’ll pause for a second while you recover from slamming your head into the desk repeatedly.

What is the one piece of advice you would give to anyone interested in beginning a blog?

If you care about people reading your blog, go find your audience. Make a list of blogs that have readers that might like your content. Start writing great comments on those blogs. Share posts on social media. Is it a lot of work? Yep. Does it work? Yes.

Share some names of favorite blogs you follow.

Well, I write for InThePowderRoom, and that’s about the funniest site out there right now. I don’t read a lot of other people’s blogs, but only because I’m self-obsessed. If anything I’ll pick up one of Woody Allen’s books, read a few pages, and then feel devastated that I’ll never be that funny.

Are you an entrepreneur or professional beyond your blog? Please share.

I was sitting around with my girlfriend recently and had an eureka moment. With all these subscription services I realized nobody has launched a “Period of the Month” club. Each month you’d get the hippest new tampon flooding the market (pun intended). Also, I’d throw in some bubble bath and a piece of
chocolate. It’s called “Cursebox.”

What one question have you always wanted to be asked? Write here and answer it as well.

Q. How do you have all your hair at 40 and why is it still so blonde?

A. (shrugs shoulders) DNA and shit?

Share a social cause or cause-based organization close to your heart.

Every other week I spend time with developmentally disabled men at an organization in Chicago called Misericordia. We hang out and do guy stuff. Lots of talking, watching TV and farting. It’s a great time and I’m honored that they choose my company.

When all is said and done, how do you want to be remembered?

Being remembered is unimportant to me, but what keeps me up and night is being on my deathbed and thinking, “I never went for it.” I want to die peacefully with the notion that I gave it my all. That being said, I hope many people cry at my funeral.

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Back in high school when first dates were innocent and slow I assumed I was too ugly to attract a woman. (insert reader sob here. Wait… Did you actually sob? If not, go back and re-read. I want sobbing, dammit!) I did go on one date, but that was it. Other than a random kissing session, that was all I had.

Most of college went the same way until I went out with my first real girlfriend, Lisa. She and I clicked right away and started a relationship. It ended when I graduated a few months later. Then I was in St. Louis for a year not doing much of anything. I simply didn’t know anyone. After that I went to work for the beer company and traveled 100% for two years. The longest relationship I had was a week in Buffalo. That’s it.

Then I got off the road and went nuts for a few years in my twenties. I met a ballerina later on and dated her for several years. But she lived in a different state, so I never saw her. After that I basically met my wife and got married a few years later. After the divorce I dated a reader of the blog, interestingly enough, but that just ended a few months back. More or less, that’s my dating history.

Now that I’m single again I’m actually going to be dating for real for the first time in my life.

Here’s an important distinction I just learned – you shouldn’t always go for the heavy makeout on the first date.

I had no idea that wasn’t appropriate. I don’t think I’ve ever had a first date where that didn’t  happen. I just assumed that was how you determined if the date was going well. If you got the makeout it means she likes you. This is the level of my dating maturity. So, I’ve always gone for the makeout. And, I’ll tell you, it can make someone really uncomfortable. Ha. I swear on the Bible I just assumed every date should end with a heavy kissing session.

By the way, can we bring back the phrase “necking”? I’m not 100% sure what it means, but is sure sounds awesome.

Well, just recently I ruined an opportunity for a second date for  this very reason.

I went in for the kiss. I went in hard. She initially pulled away (I was very persistant). Eventually she relented and kissed back. We did a standard five-minute makeout. I thought the rest of the date went great. The next day she IMd me and said that while she had a fun time she now only wants to  pursue  a friendship as she was uncomfortable with how forward the first date became. She was right to think this. She didn’t really want to kiss me. I took this initially as rejection. Actually, it wasn’t. She has continued to build a relationship with me and I believe she’ll be a good friend.

When I met with my therapist this week I knew it was time to sort out my need to get quick physical approval from a woman. The reality is I just didn’t have any experience otherwise. She reminded me that seduction is to build naturally and can’t be forced. It’s also not the acid test to determine is the date is going well. Lastly, just because I’m horny doesn’t mean I need to act on it. When I started to mention that I felt the urge to kiss women on dates, she held her hand up to stop me and just said, “Resist.”

I need to remember that dating is an interview. You’re both learning about each other and determining if the position fits.

Get it?! Ugh – that was terrible.

While a first date could lead to everything including sex or nothing physical the most important piece is that you spend time trying to connect.

Now that I’m removed the sexual side of a first date the pressure is way off. I don’t have to worry about when to make a move. I don’t have to serve pie for dessert and then right before she takes the first bite, just as the fork is going up to her lips, I grab the utensil gently and remove it from her hands. I place it back on the saucer, move the pie to the coffee table and set it down. Then I attack her mouth with the fury of a thousand Roman Gods.

I’m obviously kidding, as I’ve never successfully pulled off that move. It would go down in the books at the greatest first date kiss of all time.

It’s funny because a few years back I wasn’t even writing at all. I don’t consider myself a “good” writer. I’m skilled at coming up with daily ideas. The webinar was exactly this topic – how to come up with blog posts in daily life. I prepared quite a bit and over 215 people signed up for the event. I couldn’t believe more than ten would. I’m not that popular, for chrissakes.

It’s wasn’t all about me – the Ultimate Blog Challenge sent a massive email blast out to their group.

I’ll have the recorded version of the webinar up shortly if you’re so inclined. We went over ninety minutes.

But none of this is really what I wanted to talk about today.

After the presentation I did an interview with the great Noa Gavin. I adore her and she’s one of the truly funniest women online. That podcast will be up in a few weeks.

So, after being “on” for over two hours it was time to crash. I was exhausted and needed some downtime. And then a huge wave of  loneliness  and sadness started just crushing me. I just wanted to be around someone romantically. Someone to hold and also to be held myself. I normally am not slammed with feelings like this.

It reminded me of what it feels like after playing a gig. I get to the show early to load in my guitar and amp. They I sit around the bar drinking Sprite until it’s time for our show. We play hard for forty five minutes and then it’s over. People come over to say, “Great job!” but then I’m alone again. I pack up my amp and guitar and head home at 1am.

As I’m traveling home I’m overcome with sadness.

When this hit last night I realized that this is just what happens to me after I perform. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s because you’re on a massive high of expounding energy and feeding of the crowd, whether it’s a webinar or a music performance. It’s probably a biological thing to balance out  the high with an equal low. It’s just weird because it feels so real that it’s painful.

I had to call up a friend just to talk, I was so lonely. I think it’s this “I need to be taken care of” since I just, in a way, took care of so many people by teaching. I’m in no way complaining, but I now know that the sadness will come after a performance. Hence, I need to make arrangements.

So, I might be calling on you! Get excited to be my crying blanket. Because my life is soooooooooooooooooo hard. You’re with me, right?

photo credit: wildpianist via photopin cc

Earlier last summer I interviewed young up and coming pop star Kiana Brown. She was fresh off winning the KidzBop competition which is basically the online version of American Idol. It’s a big deal.

She was in the process of releasing her first single, Hey Chica. The song is all about self-acceptance and owning your power as a woman. It’s a great pop song.

Here’s how the whole thing went down. I had interviewed a French painter for this magazine where I was a contributing editor. These LA agents liked the piece because I asked a few wacky questions and reached out to me to interview their client, Kiana. I thought I would publish it in the magazine or submit it to another publication. I didn’t think too far ahead, for if I had I would have realized I didn’t know anyone else in the business.

Then the magazine I wrote for folded.

No problem. I just figured I would submit the story elsewhere. Turns out that getting entertainment interviews published its kind of hard when you have no credits or juice. So, sadly the article never saw the light of day.

I felt like a dick because I had sort of inferred that it wouldn’t be an issue. And that was the end of the article. It died.

Many of you know I’m in a band. We’ve taken a hiatus over the past six months as we’re all focusing on our careers and simply don’t have the time to practice or perform. I miss it and play quite a bit when I’m at home alone.

I’m not sure why this came into my head last weekend, but I was thinking of Kiana and how I had sort of let her down all those months ago.

I was strumming my guitar and I thought it would be fun to figure out an arrangement to her single to see if it sounded cool in a rock and roll style. I figured out how to play it and I kind of liked the way it flowed off the acoustic. I played it heavy and hard.

Then I, on a whim, sent a tweet to Kiana. Told her I wanted to interview her for my podcast and also perform an acoustic, rock version of Hey Chica. She instantly wrote back and was very interested.

We Skyped later that day and we were both pretty pumped. I had forgotten just how young she is – only fifteen. And, truly I loved speaking with her because she was so excited about her career and also playing this song with me. It’s so wonderful how innocent kids are at that age. I did feel like a bit of a creep pitching a song idea to a fifteen year old, but hey, it’s not like I was asking her out.

I’m in process of sending the song over and then we’re going to figure out a way to do it live. Should be a lot of fun and I’ll post it once we get it done.

I’ve been a guest on a few radio shows before but never one where I did the conducting. Since I listen to podcasts everyday I figured this would be an easy task. It was not.

First were the pre-show engineering tasks. Basically I had to find music that could be used without me getting a cease and desist. Well, it turns out it’s kind of murky on what you can and can’t do. Sure I could use the a Lynyrd Skynyrd track for my intro but those hillbillies might end up coming after me. Well, their attorneys, I guess. I’m worth nothing so I wasn’t exactly worried. But it would suck to have to re edit this stuff down the road. So, I did the right thing and bought some royalty-free music.

Picking out the right intro music for my podcast was not easy. I ended up with a song called Sex, Whiskey, and Rock and Roll. As somebody who only occasionally partakes in two of those (not saying which), it seemed like a funny fit. When you hear the intro bumper I’m pretty sure you’ll like it. I really wanted to put Mozart’s Violin concerto #3 in there because I’m sophisticated and want to appear better than you. It may also be my favorite bit of music. Sometimes I go into my bathroom, put on this piece, and pretend like I’m playing violin. A thirty-six year old should have different fantasies,  right?

Once the music was selected then I had to learn some basic sound editing. I figured it out okay. Then I had to learn how to configure my computer to record my voice through the condenser mic and mixer but the guest’s voice through Skype. That was actually complicated. It was originally going to take two computers, but I got it down to one. Isn’t this thrilling shit?

The easiest part, I thought, would be the interview. I basically talk for a living, and I present usually four to six hours a day. I didn’t think I’d have any challenges. Well, during playback I found a lot of stuttering. Not like that one kid in third grade named Steve who stuttered that you threw erasers at his faulty head. Half-started sentences stuttering. Plus, and I can’t believe it – I said, “um” a few times. Bush league.

Oh, and also I didn’t have enough stuff prepared for the interview. This was okay because I want to keep the episode short.

Since word is spreading I now have six future guests lined up. I’m excited.

I’m going to keep the content quiet until iTunes approves the podcast which should be within seven days. I even have sponsors and everything!

Well, I’m exhausted. Time to go to the land of Nod where once again I will dream of my once-best friend Matt who decided to leave the friendship without explanation in ninth grade. Why Matt, why?

Probably because he was a douche, subconscious. Now, let’s drop it.

During my last visit I didn’t realize they had FCC-like rules for broadcasting. Subsequently they had to cut a bunch of minutes off my interview. I always associate Britain with progressive laws and language. When I spoke to host Jodie Orton pre-show I asked her if gays could marry in the UK. She said, “Um, I think so.” She really didn’t know but made it sound like, “Why wouldn’t they be able get married?” Which, over here is still a crazy debate.

I was disappointed about their prohibition on certain language, however. I prepared about five minutes of solid material on the word “fanny.” I had listed with British expressions that needed to die and others that are awesome. I didn’t realize wanker, sod off, and getting pissed were not allowed during prime time. Apparently they have a rule where no bad words are to be broadcast before 9 pm. Then, to my understanding, they let the c-word fly.

I pitched a few other ideas. I wanted to talk about a premise of a sketch I’m trying to write for a Second City troupe in Hollywood. However, it’s just way too offensive. So that was out. I was scrambling and found a story about how the Waffle House CEO was just busted for sexual  harassment   I came up with some decent jokes about how it’s ironic that the food served in prison is better than in his restaurants. She told me to stay away from sex-crime stuff.

The interview went fine even though I had nothing prepared. At one point she referenced a story about a US postman who stepped over a dead body and kept delivering the mail without doing anything about the body. I got super excited because at that moment I remembered that I, too, had discovered a dead body once. Actually, I’ve found two dead bodies! I was really thrilled to have something to talk about, but as I was describing what happened it occurred to me that dead-body stories are not something to get fired up about. I stopped mid-story and said, “Very sad. Tragic.” That brought the show to a screeching halt.

In the end, it was a fun time. I talked about how The Monkees sucked, how I don’t want people without IDs voting in presidential elections, and my story from yesterday about Swiss socks.

Okay, I have a cold so I’m going to work on the contest I referenced a few days ago and then pass out. I hope you all smell like the grapefruit Kiehl’s hand soap my sister bought me.

This is going to sound like an insanely stupid problem, but here goes. I’ve been biking to work every day for over six months. Here in Chicago it’s getting close to hanging up the bike shorts (I have never worn bike shorts) for the season. Winter is coming.

I’m usually comfortable until it dips below forty degrees. Then it’s simply too damned cold to be biking ten miles each way. Plus, I have the dog strapped to my back and I’m sure she isn’t happy when she has two sweaters on and is still shivering.

Oh, I haven’t got to the problem yet. Damned exposition!

The problem is that:

• I’m used to burning hundreds of calories each day
• I’m a spaz when I don’t burn hundreds of calories a day

What this means is that if I don’t work out I have all this extra energy that needs to be released. I’m not a relaxed person by nature. What happens is the energy starts leaking out on all sorts of stuff – for example I had two minor freakouts today at work for benign events. I just freaked out in my head, but it was a bit of a rager.

Also, when I’m talking to Jessica over the phone, I’m more apt to want to increase the energy of the conversation to burn it out. Sometimes this becomes funny material, other times exhausting psychological  discussions  of people in her building that will approach her while she’s walking the dog and talking with me and they have a  three minute conversations with her even though she’s clearly on the phone and too polite to tell them to bugger off.

Trying to brush up on my Brit expressions as I’m doing a radio interview in a few weeks. I’m going to give them my list of “Stupid British Slang.” My favorite British word is “fanny” by the way. I can’t believe we Americans got that one so wrong.

This energy needs to go away. The only way I know how to do that is via exercise or valium. Since I don’t do drugs or alcohol I have to hit the treadmill. I have the P90x Insanity program which is crazy hard, but I also have neighbors underneath me. The instructors have you jumping around like a moron and at 6am I’m not sure this will be well-received.

My other option – work out at night. Well, same problem with the downstairs neighbors. I do, however, belong to a gym, but I go to meetings at night for the various groups to which I’m involved.

Okay, I wanted to end that sentence with “groups I’m involved with” but I know that’s mechanically incorrect. I don’t think anyone truly gives a shit but I changed it anyway. “To which I’m involved” makes me sound like an asshole. If any of you know how to remedy that sort of thing, let me know. Happens to me almost every evening and I don’t know what to do. Except eat lots of chocolate and pass out.

Evenings are just too unpredictable and I’ll always find reasons not to go. I could head to the gym in the morning but that’s a whole three blocks away. I know – tragic. The odds of me getting up and stumbling to the family room are slim as it is. Putting on winter clothes and trudging outside, while completely reasonable, is unlikely.

So, part of me wants to say, “Suck it up, loser! Get to the gym or press play on the DVD like a disciplined human being!” The other part of me understands the other part of me which is to go back to sleep and try to recreate that one dream I had where I was eating soup while sitting in a jacuzzi talking to four blonde sorority co-eds.

I still have a few biking days left and even though I’m wearing the thermal underwear and winter hat under my helmet I’m enjoying the ride. My shirts are soaked with sweat and I have to hang them to dry at work only to put them on again at five pm, but still. It’s fun.

It just occurred to me. Bring a second shirt to use on the way home. I’m smart!

photo credit: West Point Public Affairs via photopin cc

Since I’m always in search of external validation I was excited that someone felt it was important to talk with me. About me.

If you’re not familiar with Chicago, the Tribune is our flagship newspaper and one of the ten biggest in the country. The have real reporters and probably an  ombudsman. They’re the real deal. I announced at work that they sent me a message to interview me. Just the other day an obscene t-shirt manufacturer reached out to me asking to help promote their clothing line. They said to pick any t-shirt I wanted for free. I also had practically yelled this at work. Nobody was impressed.

In my hurry I had neglected to thoroughly read the reporter’s email. All I saw was “request for  interview   and “about meeting your girlfriend through your blog.”

To be more accurate that is what I thought I saw.

When I sat down to re-read the email I realized they wanted to interview me about how I met my ex-wife, not my girlfriend, through a friend. I didn’t even remember writing about how I met my ex-wife. Inviting my current girlfriend Jessica over to  Thanksgiving at my parents’ house for our first date is one of my most popular stories. I get emails about it all the time from readers about it and it’s simply a funny and touching story.

I was confused. While being asked to get interviewed was exciting, talking about how I met my ex-wife (which is a really cute story) felt heavy and sad. We’re still friends and all, but there’s a lot of pain and sadness that surfaces. Remembering our first date brings up a tremendous amount of pleasure which then instantly fast-forwards through the devastation of divorce. It’s a complicated set of feelings.

When I spoke to the reporter at the paper I first pitched the more current story about how I met Jessica. I spent a good five minutes on the details trying to sell it. I hit all the jokes and she laughed the whole way. At the end she thought it might be a good feature for a Valentine’s story, but not a good fit for what she needed with this piece. So, I talked about the ex-wife.

I relayed how I met my ex-wife through a friend. I’ll leave the details out for now should the paper decide to include me in their article. I’ll post a link if it goes to print.

I was asked if the woman that had set us up would be willing to speak to the paper as well. I was sure that she would. This reminded me of another story – the time she tried to set me up with another woman after I was divorced.

Now, this story is newsworthy as the woman was batshit crazy. Our whole relationship had been one phone conversation and she became convinced on the call that I would passing mental illness down to her future kids. I have no diagnosed mental illnesses, by the way.

I had sent the friend that had set me up an email and copied the reporter asking if she would participate in the story. In the email I told her I spoke of the two matchmaker stories – how she introduced me to my now-ex wife, and how she introduced me to a psycho hose beast. When the friend had responded she replied both to me and the writer.

She said it was no problem to speak about how she set me up with Christina but that she didn’t want to talk about the crazy woman as she is a mom at her kid’s school and it could cause friction between them. Ah – makes sense. Then she wrote an unfortunate few sentences. Here’s what she wrote…

 In her defense… you did tell her [crazy broad] that you have self-diagnosed ADD and manic-depression. You didn’t exactly sell your better qualities.

Okay, first of all, I’ve never diagnosed myself with anything except being really kick-ass. Second I have a psychiatrist and a psychologist. Turns out I have a little ADD and that’s it. I take a few meds for it, but it’s no big deal. No bipolar, no depression, not even a touch of the gout. I don’t even get colds, for chrissakes.

Now, I’m sure she was trying to be funny. And while I do appreciate the effort I felt the need to immediately reply to both her and the reporter.

Whoa! No manic-depression!
No depression at all. Just a little ADD and not self-diagnosed. I have a doctor. Ha.

I’m so insecure the idea of having an editor at a newspaper think I was a victim of mental illness was devastating. Here I was attempting to correct any misperceptions. “I’m not crazy! And that whole ‘methinks the lady doth protest too much’ doesn’t apply here!”

Oh, one more thing. When I was being interviewed I asked the writer how she found my site. Was I a big deal around the newsroom down on Michigan Avenue? Out of all the Chicago bloggers was I clearly the funniest? Turns out it was total coincidence that we both live in Chicago. She had just done a Google search looking for stories about being set-up and I showed up number one. I was a little bummed to find out she hadn’t ever read the site before. She promised, however, to keep reading.

All in all a fun day. Even if they don’t print the story I’m thrilled to have been asked. If you haven’t read my confession series one of the  dysfunctional  things I do is interview myself to myself all the time. I only actually get interviewed in real life once in a blue moon and in my mind it’s the greatest honor in the world. In a way, I sort of star-bang myself. I’m sure that’s not healthy. But, hey, someone’s got to.

photo credit: theharv58 via photopin cc

For the previous year I have been in nothing more upscale then my Lucky Brand jeans.   In the summer I wear shorts and a polo shirt.

Mostly this is because I bike to work every day, which leaves me completely soaked with perspiration by the time I enter the office.   Since I shower in the morning, I don’t smell bad. I towel off the sweat in the bathroom and change clothes.

This is a particularly unusual style of dress for business since my job is recruiting and interviewing.   On any given day I meet with two to three people for an hour each who want to work at our firm.   Since January I’ve hired around sixty people, most all of which showed up to the interview in nice clothes.

In a previous career that lasted five years I wore a suit to work.   I never minded it, and always felt very professional.   I suspect I worked a lot harder, too.     There’s something in me that just fuels productivity when I dress up.

So, because I suspect there were times that an applicant wasn’t exactly super–impressed with my milky white legs and New Balance shoes,   I thought today I’d go back to my roots.

The end result?   I worked harder and the interviews went more smoothly than normal.

It reminds me of when I can get myself to the gym for an intense workout.

It always feels amazing when I’m done and I’m proud of the hard work I’ve put in.

But I suspect that, also like the gym, I’ll forget all about the benefits by tomorrow and reach for my khaki shorts.