Something is JUST NOT RIGHT…

Something strange is going on. I JUST KNOW IT

My director came back this week from maternity leave. Despite the fact that she basically threw me under the bus for trying to escape, it’s nice to have another voice up here on the second floor; outside of all the crazy, attitudinous voices in my head. Yeah, I made up a word. Fuck it. It works.

During all the “private” meetings The Boss held with the accountants, the A/P and the A/R clerks during the month before Ms. Director’s return, he must’ve given them all the “Let’s not encourage her” lecture. Which probably came with a measure of “Let’s carefully and undetectably discourage her”; in not-so-many words.

You remember I got that new peacock feather tattoo, right? Well, I’ve not been as careful as I used to be about keeping the ink out of sight. More accurately, I am all like IDGAF about most everything around here these days. So, really – no efforts have been made to “keep them covered to maintain a professional image” whatsoever.

Because, fuck that.

It is NOT small...

It is NOT small…

Anyway, as soon as the weather cleared for ¾- and short-sleeves I was on it. The tatt is on the inside part of my forearm closest to the body & it’s not like I have to walk around waving my arm like a lunatic for it to be visible.

But nobody has acknowledged it at ALL. Well, that is outside of the Accounting Manager who got the play-by-play since he’s kind of an ink fetishist.  But keep your minds out of the gutter, please – he’s a proper gentleman. He just likes to feel the raised scars that stick around for a while after all the scabs fall off… Ok, I’ve said too much here.

Moving on – there are a total of sixteen people in my department who are here in the same office building housing only THIS DEPARTMENT on a daily basis. How is it that NONE of them felt even remotely tempted to make any mention at all about a brand-spanking-new, brightly colored tattoo adorned with 3 lines of text?? Really, HOW!??

He told them not to; that’s how. But why?

Because I am the office problem-child that needs to be dealt with appropriately and he’s probably afraid. He’s afraid that, if I happen to NOT shape up in time for my June 2015 reassessment, if anyone makes any kind of comment about the new ink on my arm that maybe, just maybe, I’ll turn it all around and say I was harassed if he fires me.

Don’t forget about the “don’t encourage her” thing; in case I do shape up before June 2015 when my reassessment is due.  Which is fucking hilarious all on its own. As if I give a half a fuck at this point.

What is also fucking hilarious? We celebrated an office birthday recently and the subject of tattoos was brought up by our over-apologetic office schoolmarm. She was so proud of her son who now works in HR because, although they “bought” him a tattoo for his 21st birthday, he has since adhered to mommy and daddy’s sage advice about not getting any ink below the elbow or in other visible places.  In her opinion this would make being a suited professional big-shot all hard n’ shit. Like that subject came up accidentally. Right.

If it wasn’t for all the googly, drunk-eyes this totally could’ve been taken at the office. Because drunk NEVER, EVER happens on the clock!

And there I sat, staring her right in the face with my hands on the table using my tattooed right arm to hold my coffee cup which went up and down, repeatedly, while she was talking. Which you damn well KNOW all fifteen of them saw.

It really seems like there’s a lot of purposeful avoidance going on these days. So maybe I will “avoid” a few things, myself; like – giving a fractional FUCK about work issues. Or making even the lamest attempts at “professional” appearance; aka covering up all of my tattoos while at work for 8 hours each day. Or, coming back from off-campus lunches ON TIME.

I am always down to return a favor, yo.

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About LVital7019

Just your normal, everyday 9-5er. An uninspiring position in an inspirational non-profit moves me to constant goof-offery; aimless, on-the-job procrastination; a crankiness that borders on psychosis; and attempting to craft something meaningful with words. Just another so-called-job inspiring someone to feats of insanity with a hint of creativity... (Insert demonic laugh HERE.) View all posts by LVital7019

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