I’m not sure if you know this or not, but, allegedly, I’m a professional. Clearly, not as much of a professional as Martha Stewart, Steve Jobs, or Snooki even, but one can certainly dream. And you may not be able to tell my level of professionalism by the sporadic frequency of my blog posts, but that’s beside the point. My posts are like child support; you never know if and when it’s coming. From my perspective, it keeps things interesting. Consistency is so overrated.

Well, here is another secret that I may not have shared: I’m working on my MBA. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that I’m paying for my MBA. If the student-loan payment schedules are correct, this is an expense I’ll be repaying until at least 2092. Because of that, I may have to order some children and grandchildren off eBay to keep the payments going after I . . . ummm . . . go to that mythical place in the sky where Sallie Mae can’t find me and where you never exceed your mobile data allowance.

Several judgmental people have questioned my choice in getting an MBA and the amount of time it has taken me to complete the program. First of all, I thought MBA was short for Michael Blog Awesome. I was two years into the program before I realized that it stood for something-something-business-something. Imagine my shock and disappointment to learn the truth that the program wasn’t about Michael or my blog at all. But because I’m not a quitter, I decided to stick with it. I mean, having a something-something-business-something degree certainly won’t hurt.

Secondly, going to school isn’t cheap. Depending on what’s on sale at Kohl’s that week, I may not have $5,000 lying around to put toward my next course. Every semester I’m forced to make a life decision between a new pair of khakis or a class on leadership development. In these instances, I ask myself what would Oprah do, and then I get the khakis. I mean, I could develop my leadership skills anytime, but I may never have the opportunity to save fifty cents on a pair of slacks again. Hey, it’s all about priorities.

While I slowly progress toward my degree, I figured I could start to find ways to demonstrate my status as a professional. Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way that showing random people my college transcripts may not be the best method. As it was explained to me, it holds up the McDonald’s drive-thru lane when I try to explain to the cashier why I got a C in Professor Smith’s class three years ago. Clearly, I was robbed. My blood pressure is rising now just thinking about it.

That noted, I’ve switched up my technique and began searching for other ways to look and act the part of a professional. First, I got a full-body mirror so that I could assess the situation. Actually, if I am completely honest, I had to buy three full-body mirrors. Because of my girth, all of me wouldn’t fit on one mirror no matter how far I backed away from it. At one point, I backed right out my front door and across the hall where I had to knock on my neighbor’s door so he could let me continue to back up through his living room. By the time I found myself backing up through his bedroom, where his wife was sleeping, I realized that maybe I was going a tad bit overboard and just ordered the additional mirrors, but not before I woke his wife up and asked her to make me a sandwich. After all, I was a guest.

Anyway, after the full body assessment and a quick call to my team of plastic surgeons, I realized what I needed to do. I would get glasses. Glasses make everyone look smart. Actually, I already have a pair of glasses, but I paid so much for them that I keep them as a souvenir. If MTV Cribs ever wants to film here at my apartment again, I’ll show everyone that I keep them on the bookshelf where my future Oscar, Emmy, and Grammy awards for Best Humor Blog will eventually go.

To choose the right pair, I’ve been randomly borrowing people’s glasses and trying them on. This works well with my co-workers and my shrink, but not so much with the strangers I meet on the Metro. I’m not sure why people are so distrustful of folks they don’t know. I mean, I’m only asking to borrow their glasses; I’m not asking for a kidney! Every time I tap someone on the shoulder, they immediately tell me they don’t have any spare change, which is offensive. However, if they did happen to have spare change, I wouldn’t turn it down. Hey, my cable bill is due.

Once they finally hand over their glasses, I then give them a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to take my picture while I’m wearing them. For the first picture, they usually seem confused about what’s happening, but they typically go along with it. However, by the time I’ve had them re-take the picture 20 times due to bad lighting, my eyes being closed, or my nose being too shiny, they start to get a bit annoyed. People can be so impatient. It’s ok, though. They can’t possibly know now that 40 years down the road they’ll be able to tell their grandchildren about that one time they did that photoshoot with me on the train. They’ll see.

My search for the perfect glasses has not been without its challenges. So far, I’ve gotten pink eye four times in the past two weeks. Although I do have the chiseled cheek bones that rival male models like Tom Brady or Cristiano Ronaldo, having pink eye completely ruined my new dating profile picture for BlackFarmersWhoAreKindOfChristianMingle.com. Instead of being asked about my background, hobbies, and my bank account balance, potential suitors keep asking what’s wrong with my eye. Folks can be so superficial. Isn’t it what’s on the inside that counts? Well, I guess conjunctivitis is technically inside my eye, but that’s neither here nor there.

Besides glasses, I also figured it was time to upgrade my wardrobe so I could look the part of a professional as well. Perhaps I may have overdone it by strutting through the office in a sparkly silver tuxedo with a matching top hat. The cane and the wingtip shoes probably didn’t help my case either. However, I’m sure you’ll agree that this ensemble was a vast improvement over the Mickey Mouse T-shirt I wore to present the departmental statistics to the executive team last week. I was just happy I scaled it back and didn’t wear the outfit I’d planned to wear from The Great Gatsby movie. I’m not sure a feathered headband and a shawl have a proper place in a corporate setting. At least not on a Tuesday.

Clearly, I’m a work in progress. I don’t have it all figured out just yet, but who does? Ok, maybe Meghan Markle and Mama June have things under control, but perhaps we shouldn’t set our bars that high. I mean, one married a prince and the other mothered Honey Boo Boo. We can only dream of such greatness. But, in the meantime, we’ll just have to keep trying on other people’s glasses, one pair at a time.

Michael Rochelle
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