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The same day I was officially put in charge of shoes and used clothing at Store 5, I came home to my run-down apartment in northeast Washington, DC, to find my first grad-school rejection letter. I thought I was gooing to be stuck in retail for the rest of my life. The soles of my feet were expanding with a new ridge of calluses. I’d dropped enough weight that I worried people would think I was bulimic when I scuffed my knuckles at work. I now looked upon short acrylic nails as an investment.