I was about to make a huge step in my career, but first I had to decide if I wanted to leave the comfort of the close proximity to my family and my Xerox branch office where I had worked for almost two years. I had a chance to step onto the world stage of big business in a role I never dreamt could be mine.

The Xerox International Training Center was located in Leesburg, Virginia, just outside Washington, D.C. It sat on hundreds of acres of wooded property and was considered one of the most state-of-the-art training facilities in the world. The Office Products Division was in need of a marketing trainer for the men and women who held positions similar to mine across the U.S. and Canada. Who better to train new recruits than someone who has done the job with good performance and customer reviews for a few years?

My name was tossed into the ring by Bob and other senior leaders in my region.  If successful in getting the job, I would train marketing specialists on product technology, customer interactions, demonstration skills, consulting, and training techniques, as June had previously trained me.  But would I pursue the opportunity or remain stuck in my comfort zone? As in the title of my friend Judith Bardwick’s book, “There’s danger in the comfort zone.” Throughout life, we have to deal with our comfort zones. Missed opportunities live in the comfort zone, risking not becoming who you were meant to be lives in the comfort zone, a limiting life sometimes lives in the comfort zone. After thinking things through including the hard choice of being separated from my family, I decided to go for it.  Here I was, being asked to interview in Leesburg for one of the most coveted jobs in my field. I couldn’t wait to interview and thought of little else in the weeks leading up to my trip to Leesburg.

The excitement lasted until the day I received a phone call from the big boss of my district, Jack, who was Bob’s boss. He asked me to meet him for lunch on a Friday afternoon halfway between Washington, D.C., and Harrisburg. That’s when he told me an issue had developed, and my lively excitement turned to disillusion.

The national director, to whom my new training role would ultimately report, had a problem with me. It wasn’t my work performance, as she found it acceptable. It wasn’t a lack of recommendations from my leaders who wrote notable references for me. It was my image. She didn’t believe I had the “corporate image” and, therefore, couldn’t serve as a role model for all the other Office Products marketing representatives across Xerox. She had strong reservations about my candidacy, Jack said, but would still permit me to go through the interview process.  I was brought down to earth with a hard thud. Once again, someone was trying to hold me back from my dreams.

Before we parted, Jack slid a copy of a book across the table. He told me to read it, think about it, and decide if I wanted to make any changes in my appearance before the interview. One look at the book, and I was heartsick. Just glancing through the pages of John Malloy’s “Dress for Success for Women” provoked a visceral reaction within my head and heart. I would not be caught at a Halloween party in those stodgy outfits and shoes he was recommending. I didn’t care how much research he had done to back up his recommendations, I wasn’t having any of it.

The next day as I sat alone in my apartment near Harrisburg, I thumbed through the book and softened a little as I considered Jack’s noble intentions in presenting it. He had only the best motives and didn’t want this easily-handled appearance issue to compromise my chances. Just who was this John Malloy anyway? Didn’t he realize that femininity is an asset in a man’s business world? I had no trouble getting through doors with my current “image.” Why did I need to change?  But something pulled me deeper into the pages of the book, and I read the darned thing. At least I read huge chunks of it.

For the rest of that Saturday, I couldn’t get the book off my mind.  That night, I thought hard. I resisted the feedback, felt defensive, and tossed and turned during the little sleep I got. Again, that comfort-zone business loomed large. By daybreak, I had moved to acceptance. If this is what it would take to advance my career, I would make the necessary changes.

The next morning, when I should have been in church, I found myself rummaging through my closet. John Malloy talked about a woman’s skirted business suit which would stand toe-to-toe in acceptance and impact with the male business suit. I had nothing of the kind in my closet. I had lovely dresses, many of them clingy and form-fitting.  He recommended plain pumps with a two or three-inch heel. My shoes were platform sandals, some decked out in gold, and five inches high. Mr. Malloy suggested short hair styles for women in the business world. My hair was long and flowed down my back. He touted minimal makeup. My makeup wasn’t theatrical, but my eyes projected drama with the liner and mascara I heavily applied each day.

Like a clap of thunder, it dawned on me what the national director meant by my non-corporate image. I was dressing for men. I was not dressing for success. And that bit about femininity being important…the feminine point of view is vital but not if the message gets lost in the messenger.  I got in my car and headed to the best department store in the mall. There I purchased two suits, each with a jacket and a skirt. Because I read only chunks of the book and not the entire book, I missed the part about purchasing clothing with natural fabrics. My new suits were both polyester but still ended up serving me well for a few years to come.  I went to the shoe store and held my nose as I purchased the two-inch, closed-toed pumps.

My transformational mission continued on Monday morning as I pulled my long hair back into a severe bun, applied only the barest amount of makeup to my face, and removed the colored polish from my nails. I put on the taupe-colored suit, a conservative silk blouse, the stodgy pumps, and headed out the door to work just like any other day. But as soon as I entered the building, I found out it was certainly not like any other day. Nor would it ever be again.

My professional “image” was the talk of the branch office. Women admired it, most men hated it. By the end of the morning, many had weighed in with their opinions of the new me.  For the remainder of the week, I persevered without giving into my desire to return to my former ways.

Before long, I drove to Leesburg, Virginia, to interview for the national role and a huge step in my career. Join me next time for whether or not the changes were enough to land the big job. The job that would desecrate all to pieces any semblance of comfort.