i love/hate my heels

Last week marked the glorious end of my job and the training for my replacement. This poor girl showed up all charisma, perfection and motivation. She reminded me so much of myself just a year and half ago. In comparison, I now have replaced my professionalism with sneakers, wet hair and an admittedly snippy attitude. My boss knows how to hire a pretty young girl in her twenties. He also knows how to break her spirit and rob her of her work ethic.


After introducing her to the spreadsheets that would soon be her life I told her that she could go to lunch if she wanted. That’s when shit got weird. New Girl looked at me like I had asked her to sit on her own head.

I am alone in my office for 75% of most days. To spurn off sleepiness and boredom in general I dance around the warehouse and I have a myriad of snacks in my drawer that I munch on for a considerable part of my day. Then came the day that I ran out of pretzels, a day that started out as innocent as any other Tuesday.

My boss is the type of man that makes lesser women cry, or at least flinch. He is the type of man who expects his assistant (me) to speak when spoken to. A rule I find easy to abide by since I prefer to wear my headphones all day as opposed to listening to his sighs of discontent. This is a man whose mood changes faster than the Florida weather and when his moods are bad the air in the office is thick with awkward shuffling of people trying to avoid his fury.