Today I have been thinking about bosses. Overall, I really like and respect my boss. Sometimes she just drives me crazy. It’s not anything about her. She is smart and nice and actually pretty funny…it’s just that I occasionally become a petulant teenager. And as a result, I have to dislike authority or something.

My assistant (Alex) and I are pretty good friends. We eat lunch together every day. Sometimes we go to yoga together (but she is polite enough to declare “in a minute, you’re going to see my boobs” when we are in the locker room changing). We talk about boy stuff and other silly gossip. She knows personal stuff about me that only my close friends would know, like… I don’t wear underwear for yoga (she is scandalized by this).

But still…I’m sure there are days when I am driving her crazy because I am always wearing headphones and why does she have to send me an instant message, why can’t she just talk to me like a normal fucking person? Or why I am passing her an endless stream of orders without any pause, she’s only one person after all? And why do I sometimes write the letter “z” when I mean number “7,” I mean didn’t I pass kindergarten? And so on…

But back in the day, in ye olde Portland, I was a manager in a store with lots of employees. Not only do I have a pretty grating personality, but I also wrote the schedule. So of course, I was incredibly unpopular. I was trying to think of the most intense example of hatred among the sales associates, and I remembered a message I received years ago on fucking MYSPACE from a recently fired employee. This required some digging, because I couldn’t even remember when it happened…for some reason the m-space saves your inbox messages until the end of time? I also noticed that I have a lot of messages with the subject of “i’m sorry” from that time period, from a wide variety of individuals.

The sender of this message was fired while I was on vacation, after I tried to save her job for months just because I thought she was nice (even though I have to admit, she was a TERRIBLE worker). I was almost relieved to discover she was gone when I returned, because my boss had recently confronted me about being too “soft” on this girl.

Date: Feb 5, 2006 3:42 AM
Subject: HEY GIRL!

I think you are a horrible person. I don’t know what your problem with me is. It’s too bad. I hope that you have a good time working a mediocre retail job for the rest of your life. You’re 28, you have an illegitimate child, and you still hang out with barely legal hipster cry babies that have nothing better to do than go to the tube every day. Hey cool. That’s pretty wild. Welp, see ya later.
(name withheld to protect the foolish)

p.s. Sorry you’re jealous that I made out with ______ and you ONLY casually spooned him. 😦

Oh man….some of my favorite things about this message:

1. The PS—I mean, yeah…I did casually spoon a sales associate after taking a whole bunch of codeine cough syrup (I had bronchitis…so it was a semi-legitimate abuse of prescription medication) and then nodding off at his house. However, he did inform me that “house rules=no pants,” so I obediently took off my jeans. This was at least a month before I slept with the display artist (not technically my employee) and several months before I started sleeping with someone that actually worked for me. I was probably at least semi-jealous because she had the gumption to make out with her co-workers before I did.

2. Just to reiterate…she sent me this message on FUCKING MYSPACE!!! Way to communicate through a serious outlet. Yep, now I knew that her feelings were hurt FOR REALS!

3. This girl–as far as I know–now lives at home with her parents.

Also–I would just like to say that none of my friends are crybabies and most of them are pushing 30. We still hang out at the Tube occasionally, but we start to feel elderly after a while. The 20-year old faux hipsters turn us off, but we’re all too budget conscious to stay away from a happy hour that runs until 10. And I still get free drinks there.

And yes…Dylan is illegitimate…but I prefer the totally posi, awesomely romantic term “love child.”


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