Two interesting things have happened at work lately.
First, my boss has started rating my clothes based on what I could wear if I worked in Charlottesville. (Today--khaki skirt, loavers, t-shirt--does NOT pass that test, but last Thursday--white skirt, yellow blouse, skinny black patent belt and VERY high patent leather black heels--was ideal, apparently.)
The second also had to do with those VERY high heels. My boss and I wear the same size shoe--don't ask how we discovered this--and while we were all sitting around discussing something, she was staring at my shoes and finally she said, "I must try them on! You don't mind, do you?" ("Of course I don't mind--you're the boss...") They were 4.5 inches tall heels, black patent leather uppers and cork lowers.
So she tried them on and wore then the rest of the morning. She informed me afterwards that the stacked heel made them quite bearable, and she loved the fact that she could see on top of cabinets for once. She went in everyone's office and teased us about our dust (that she could now see) and occasionally ribbed us about hiding food out of her normal reach. (Closer to the truth than we would admit... :p)
I love my office, and I especially love my boss. If only I liked my job. :P
Isn't it ironic?
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