Was that too subtle? It's a fart joke.
♦ ♦ ♦
Whoops, I was mistaken — all the flyers on the walls at work say "Fashion Show 9/22," but the small print I hadn’t read says it’s tonight, not today. The King of Earth (CEO) arrives this evening for caviar and cocktails and watching women on the walkway, and then tomorrow he’ll be floating through the store and offices all day.I’d need a bigger thesaurus to describe how much I don’t give a damn, about fashion, about the fashion show, and especially about the CEO’s visit. All the suits are in a dither about it, though, and the building's top executive sent everyone an electronic memo, marked “highest priority":
“FYI — Due to Mr (CEO)’s visit tomorrow, Casual Friday has been canceled. Sorry for the late notice.”
That is frogshit, even by company standards. Should we all just drop to our knees and drool on his ring and peel grapes for the CEO?
I mean, is Casual Friday a secret? Is it something we’ve been doing behind the CEO’s back? No, it's company policy, posted on the wall, and mentioned in new-hire orientation — office staff is allowed to dress down on Fridays. "Unless the CEO is here" has never been part of the deal.
So I'm dressing casual tomorrow. Call me a rebel.
I don't expect the CEO will bother saying hello to our dusty corner of the eighth floor, where there's no window, no air conditioning, and a few drudges input price changes and merchandise transfers. If he does make an appearance, if he sees me in a slightly-stained pullover instead of a button-down business shirt, will I be in big trouble? Guess we'll find out.
One of the junior executives stopped at my desk in the late afternoon, and suggested that for the CEO's visit tomorrow, I should wear a necktie. I laughed and said I don’t own one, and he offered to bring in one of his ties for me — which, in a corporate way, was a kind gesture.
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I said, “but I won’t wear a tie. It’s a philosophical thing.” He walked away bewildered, and maybe I've made another enemy. Hope not. He’s the only executive who still seems borderline human.
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In the rez hotel, I’ve rearranged the mess on my TV stand. Without the electronic cyclops, the new focal point is zines and letters and movie calendars. It's much more 'me', and nice to have more space for that stuff.
It sure is different, though.
How many hours, how many years of my life have dissolved into staring at
the telly? How many hundred-thousands ads have I absorbed, and jingles have I unintentionally memorized?
Before I was even a teenager, I’d saved up earnings from my paper route to buy an old television set for beside my bed. 11-year-old me was so dang happy when I found a big black-and-white RCA for $10 at the thrift store — and it worked! I bought it, lugged it home, plugged it in and tweaked the antenna, and then I could watch any show I wanted, not just whatever my mom and dad and older brothers and sisters wanted to watch.
I watched Star Trek in my bedroom every night at 6pm, and Wild Wild West at 7, and stayed up late to watch old movies on the non-network channel, or Tom Snyder blowing smoke on Tomorrow in the middle of the night. Having my own TV felt like freedom, and there’s been a TV in my room ever since, everywhere I’ve lived.
Now there's not. It's in the closet, sure, and I could plug it in any time I change my mind, but tonight it feels like freedom, not having a TV in my room.
From Pathetic Life #4
Thursday, September 22, 1994
This
is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago,
called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but
might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting
things, so parental guidance is advised.
Fun fact listening to nature sounds and ocean waves while working makes me feel like im working in Narnia and on vacation
ReplyDeleteHighly reccomend it
that is all
lol
Excellent life advice, thank you.
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