Slacks. Say it with me. Slacks. See, you got all kinds of itchy and uncomfortable just saying it.
Tomorrow, yours truly has to rock a pair of slacks all day at work–for the first time in two and a half years. And I have to wear ’em again the day after that. And the day after that. In fact, I just realized I’m going to attend my regular Friday happy hour in slacks.
Then it’ll start all over next week.
If you can’t sympathize with the agony of slacks, I offer you this:
Yesterday I candidly told my boss I thought she was making a bad business decision. She didn’t retort much at the time, but decided a few hours later to regress back to seventh grade and send me an email.
The subject line said, “I just found this picture of you.” When I opened it, I saw the most haggard photo of myself to ever grace the intarwebs.
The email body it self just said: “Nice…”
I responded and kindly asked her to get rid of the photo. But by the looks of things, she’ll probably spend her free period (between Social Studies and Student Council) affixing photocopies of said picture in every hallway.