Friday, August 14, 2009

The Donald is going to appear and yell "You're Fired!" any minute now

This week has been an interesting week at work. And not in a good way.

Yes, I was late every day, but that's standard. (Today I was only 9 minutes late, which I gave myself major kudos for.)

Tuesday, I wore a new pair of dress shorts I purchased from Banana last weekend. (They were this style, but tan.) I bought them specifically for work, and paired them with peep-toe brown heels and a dressy brown top. I couldn't wait to wear a fun, new outfit.

Around 11 a.m., I got an IM (yes, we use Instant Messenger at work-annoying as hell) from one of my supervisors that said, "Hi Miss Procras., may I speak to you in the conference room for a minute please?"

I knew this little chat was not going to go well. It's akin to being sent to the principal's office in elementary school. I could just hear the childhood taunts of "ooooooohhhhh! Miss Procras. is in troooooooouuuuuble!!"as I walked to the conference room.

Turns out, our little meeting was about my new shorts. Apparently they don't adhere to the company's dress code. Even though I've been wearing a gray and black pair all summer and even though another co-worker had on a pair last week (to which, my manager replied, that there is no rhyme or reason for who gets singled out.)

Now, I would have no problem with this policy if it were consistent. I would also have no problem if the dress code was more clearly outlined. When I first started, the dress code stated we could wear jeans on Friday. So, I wore jeans on my first Friday, then got a friendly IM that day stating our department does not allow jeans.

Does anyone else see a problem with this besides me? Why the F-ity F would you say something is okay to wear if it's not?! And why, if you're going to be anal, would you not be as specific as possible?! Especially since there are so many clothing options for women!

I was livid. I try really hard to project a professional, polished image at work. It's not like I go around, cleavage exposed, ass hanging out.

So I vented to The Hoff and my mom during my lunch break and drank a few cosmos after work. Cosmos cure all.

Then, on Thursday, The Hoff had a meeting he needed to leave for by 9 - the same time I needed to leave. I woke up, looked at the clock, and was horrified to see 9:45 flashing in front of me.

I rubbed my eyes. The time didn't change.
Thought maybe I had my days wrong and maybe it was actually Saturday. Pondered for a few seconds, and realized, unfortunately, it was Thursday. The Hoff had 15 minutes to get to Woodbridge while I was already 15 minutes late.

Panic set it.

As calmly as I could, I woke up The Hoff. I've never seen anyone fly out of bed as fast as he did. I've also never heard anyone curse that much. (Must be the Bahston in him.)

Honestly, neither of us can even remember the alarm going off. Definitely interesting explaining that one to the boss.

At this point, I'm so over my job I just don't care anymore. I keep telling myself to suck it up so I can continue paying my bills until I find something that actually falls in line with my career goals.

For my sanity's sake, I really hope that's sooner rather than later. (And before the Trumpster shows up.)

Thank the sweet baby Jesus it's Friday. Time to detox from work and intox (I know that's not a real word, but it should be) on alcohol!

2 comments on "The Donald is going to appear and yell "You're Fired!" any minute now"

Singlegrrrl on August 19, 2009 at 4:49 PM said...

Oh darlin' I feel your pain. I got reamed out a few weeks ago for not getting to work early enough even though I've been getting there at roughly the same time for a year. Supes are random. And work sucks.

Miss Procras. on August 20, 2009 at 4:49 PM said...

Thanks, girl! I will never, ever understand supervisor rationale. I'm convinced they all come from another planet. And whoever thought of 40+ hour work weeks that start at 8 am was seriously disturbed.


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