Courtesy of Homestar Runner. Awesome.
The traditional ‘Casual Friday’. Usually reserved for the upper management wankers wandering around in their designer jeans trying to act ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ and a source of merriment for the rest of us watching them try to look nonchalant in their pressed denim.
I have never been one to partake in the Biz Cas Fri. I prefer my usual attire of shirt, skirt, wrap of some description and fucking kick arse heels. However this morning that was not to be. I have NO FREAKING IDEA where any of my normal work wear is. I dug into the recesses of my wardrobe, found a rather cute shirt that I forgot I had and replaced my skirt with jeans.
Jeans people. Fucking JEANS. I never wear jeans to work. I dressed it up some, but totally jeans to work.
Meh. Upper management do it.
You wouldn’t believe how many people commented on my jeans wearing arse today. And chicks pinching my jeans wearing arse… seriously. What is with that?
Five minutes after sitting my jeans wearing arse down and getting in to checking my emails, Coffee Bitch comes up to me and asks for a little ‘informal chat’
With him, the head of the whole Department and our lawyer. In the Departments heads office.
That was no ‘informal chat’ people. That was a fucking selection panel.
Informal chatting my jeans wearing arse. I was being interviewed with 30 seconds notice.
*shakes fist at Murphy, the Universe and everything*
So I get in there, rock the shizz and wander out thinking the only thing that is gunna hold me back is those pesky kids. My spawn. Those blood sucking leeches that are keeping me from working 18 hour days with all their needs and shit. You know all that cooking and cleaning and cuddling and being there and love. Dammit.
Just before I left for the day I cornered the Coffee Bitch.
‘You know I have the next two weeks off right?’
‘So you need to let me know right now what is going on. Am I here on Monday or not? If I am I will re-negotiate my leave so I can finish this project. Otherwise, tell me who to dump it on’
He dragged me into an interview room.
I didn’t get the job.
And it is a BIG BUT. Bigger than my jeans wearing butt.
They have created another new position. For me. In the 5 hours since my little ‘chat’. Yeah, baby. I am THAT fucking awesome.
With more autonomy. More responsibility. More moola spindoola.
But I have to work more hours. Which is gunna be, um, interesting.
I can do it. I am awesome. I can handle it all. I can do it all.