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I started my day feeling great, which should always be a bad sign. I matched my sweater with my favorite pair of sneakers, my shirt with my tie, my briefcase with my pants, my book with my eyeballs, my iPod with my ears, etc, etc, etc. Just straight feeling amazing, listening to awesome music, goin’ to work. I get into work, get a couple complements, see the boss, realize she’s not doing so well (probably because the CEO kinda wrecked her yesterday). I’m not going to let it get to me this morning because, as usual, I’ve done what was required. I’ve met deadlines, I’ve always conducted my research as specified before she changed her mind and got angry at me. In fact, I’m fairly sure I did very well in the meeting; I remembered information off the top of my head, made jokes and so on.

I sat down at my desk and started doing what I do 50% of the time I’m at work: gchat. A friend of mine was talking about how she fucked up by getting a plane ticket wrong for her boss. She was even scared that she might get fired. I was like, I don’t know, your boss got the ticket fixed, showed up on time and won’t be back in town for a while. I think you’re set. I’ve also heard a rumor that humans, by nature, make mistakes. I even heard some rumor about some dude dying about 2000 years ago so we could make mistakes, even though I’m not sure I subscribe to it.

So then I went to get a better idea of what one of my coworkers needed from me. Then my boss came in and reminded us that we couldn’t wear sneakers. I was all like, “Say what? I remember making jokes with the HR person about how the rules only specify that you have to wear socks.” And then my boss was all like, “Well, that may be the case but you can’t wear sneakers.” So I agreed and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Later I was walking to get a TPS Report or a printout and I saw one of the HR ladies. I was like, “Hey, does the dress code have stuff about sneakers on it?” She was nice at this point and said, “Yeah, you can’t wear sneakers and you have to wear business attire appropriate shoes.” When I said, “Right, but I don’t remember seeing anything on the dress code I signed about shoes, so I’ll be up later to look at the stuff I’ve signed.” I guess she heard, “Hey, I’m a fucking retard,” because she rolls her eyes and goes, “No, you can’t wear sneakers.” Of course I was like, “Yeah, no, I understand, I was just hoping to see my paperwork when I’m done for the day.” So we parted ways and I tried to figure out why she looked like I’d chopped up dead fish and left them on her desk (i.e., why she looked so disgusted). I guess she heard “Hey pretty lady, I’mma come harass you in a sexual manner later because I’m looking for a way out of this shit job where I’m constantly fighting my boss about whether or not I get to wear sneakers.”

Next thing I know, my boss is calling me into her office because the Head HR lady wants to have a meeting. I mean, I’m sure you understand what happened–blah blah blah can’t wear blah blah blah won’t happen again blah blah blah oh yeah, you did say business shoes blah blah blah…etc–but the thing that, in retrospect, shocked me the most was that my boss made a point to specifically disassociate herself from me. The HR lady was even like, “Ok, I have to go now” and my boss still took time to scold me again and shift any possible blame that could land on her onto me.

Then my boss and I had a big meeting where I had to explain why I decided to ask HR about HR things. (I guess she thought I went over her head to make her look bad, even though I just really wanted to make sure I hadn’t forgotten any other rules, maybe something like “Employees must wear underwear. Going commando is strictly–STRICTLY–prohibited.”) Also, she revealed that the main HR lady had initially come down to “release” me. Because I guess when you work freelance, they can “release” you at their will. I mean, I may not help sell words for a living, but “release” is really only helping the conscience of the person doing the firing. Then Victoria’s Secret prevented an aneurysm by forcing the meeting to end so I could finish my work for the day and so I could leave the office. I took particular pleasure in relaxing while folding panties to reflect and I’d like to share some valuable lessons I learned with you:

When I run the magazine industry, I will:
1. Stand up for the people who make me look good–even and especially when they fuck up. We know they fucked up. They know they fucked up. Shit has to go on, otherwise we’re going to fuck up more.
2. Will hire as few freelancers as possible. Because when you’re a freelancer, you can get fired for messing up just one time. So freelancers are supposed to be robots. And I don’t like robots (because perfection is not human). Unless they’re Daft Punk.
3. Double-check the work of my subordinates, but still respect them.
4. Repeat myself as little as possible because I know how annoying it is not to be trusted by your boss.
5. Organize everything. Everything.
6. Allow sweet fucking sneakers at work.

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