This week, I had a lot of Very Big and Important meetings. That means driving to Shermer, Il, sitting in a conference room for 12 hours, eating bad catered food, then going back to the hotel and working on all of the stuff that you couldn’t do during the day because you were sitting in said conference room talking about that work. It was important, don’t misunderstand, all of the talking and whatnot, but it really boils down to dressing up in unnatural fibers, wearing heels, and when I walk through the natural campus to the parking structure, listening to the echoing zither of my pantyhosed thighs rubbing together, wondering if I’m going to start a cricket riot. Which, quite honestly, would be really fucking funny.
That’s probably the thing I hate the worst about going to the corporate office, quite honestly, and it’s so damned stupid, but they were very intent on having some green space when they built the building and the parking structure is set off from it. However, because it’s the midwest and the weather sucks more often than not, they’ve built a little bridge that connects the two, and then they installed a tent-like dome thing over the bridge to protect one from the elements. It has all the look and feel of a fashion runway, and usually is teeming with people that I might not want to watch me struggle with my rolling briefcase through the revolving door. For instance, on my last night, I spotted my boss and because protocol required it, I started chatting with him and then he pointed out the CEO walking along side us. Look, I just want to make a quick escape to my car. Once you are out of the building, you should be allowed to no longer make pleasantries, right? You shouldn’t have to be all corporate bottom feeder when you just want to get to your car, crank up some Pixies and blow that one-horse town. I forgot the point I was trying to make.
Oh, right. Pretending.
You know what I’ve always suspected happened in those manager meetings? That they talk about all of their underlings? It’s totally true. TOTALLY TRUE. In fact, they compare and contrast, citing personality flaws and perks that made me feel so very uncomfortable, because gentle readers, I am way worse than most of their citations. Seriously, sometimes I’m sitting in those meetings, around all of those rock stars of the org chart, and I’m thinking “What the hell am I doing here?” Basically, the entire week, I realized the song that had been strumming through my noggin was “One of These Things Is Not Like the Other”
Also, it probably had a lot to do with the fact that on the last day, under my very cute Igigi Sailor Moon dress, I was wearing a very flashy pair of Torrid panties that proclaimed to the world that I was a rock star. So…yeah, what amounted to Big Girl Underoos.
This is what gets you kicked out of the executive bathroom, right there. Guaranteed.
4 Comments
I know you were rockin’ the Sailor Moon. I’m having to sell mine. It just didn’t look right on this big ol’pear body. Should have paid more attention to the body shape recommender thing.
I’m glad you’re back posting. You’ve been missed.
So glad you are back!!
I frequently make a point of wearing my rockstar undies under my business suits. It gives me something to smile about while the vendors drone on and on and on…
That feeling you’re feeling? I guarantee you that most if not all of the people round your conference table are feeling the exact same thing. We’re all frauds pretending to be white collar workers. I still feel like that and I’m the CEO.
The reason why managers talk about their underlings all the time is because we spend 80% of our day (and I’m not even exagerating) managing their shit. So being able to unload in front of peers is useful because otherwise you spend your days having conversations where someone you manage is complaining about the electric kettle in the staff room not boiling the water hot enough and how Bruce in accounting was sarcastic at them for asking for a new kettle and your mouth is saying “yes, I understand, that must have been distressing. Yes, sure I’ll look into it. No, I’m glad you brought it up with me…” while inside your head a voice is screaming “what the fuck am I doing here?”