OK, so my plan has always been to keep my workplace shenanegins off the blog. You know, separate church and state.
Except that I just can’t keep the humor of the best job I’ve ever had away from you guys. Because you’re missing out and only getting the scraps of my life. And that’s not fair to you. Especially to those of you who braved two rounds of unemployment with me over the last year and a half.
Because my co-workers say things like: “I can’t get to hotlegsusa.com. What kind of workplace is this? I just want to look up pantyhose!”
Without further ado, welcome to my workplace.
I work at a pretty huge company. In one of their boutique satellite offices in the city. I am a part of a small, but growing team and this summer we have the pleasure of hosting an adorable intern. It’s like in college when you hosted a scooter (wow, never wrote about that…give me time friends. A scooter is a high school senior that spends a weekend in the dorms and you “scoot” them around and get them to do fun things) only with less peer pressure. Well sort of.
Although I think it’s supposed to be the other way around. You see, this morning, I purchased a pair of these:
And it’s ALL BECAUSE OF THE INTERN.
We were talking about shoes with lights and wheelie sneaks and I found these shoes on sale. And the intern was all, “Monday morning. You better be rolling in on those babies.” And I told her, “It’s going to hurt…” And she said, “I feel like this is going to be some high quality entertainment. Mostly because you’re probably going to fall…and I want to be there…to catch you, of course.”
And with that logic, I couldn’t say no. Because you guys love a good falling story, you sick little sadists, you.
Brian’s response (he doesn’t know I have already bought them yet…): “That just… seems like a bad idea for you…”