The Importance of Being Earnest

I apologized to my boss for my recent mental situation that caused me to miss so much time the previoius month, told him that I would turn that around and wanted to do better. I asked Jesus Guy's opinion on what I could do to get ahead in the workplace, and boy, did he lay it on me. I prefaced it that I considered him a friend (I don't now) and valued his input. He informed me that the general consensus was not that I am lazy, which I expected, but that I am a dumbass who asks for help too often and that gussies herself up like a Tim Burton character with all the black clothing, black hair, and - he twirled his fingers around his eyes to reference my eyeliner - silly makeup. I was the night to the day that was the delightful girl that sat next to me, and I always looked sad.

I carefully chose the most hurtful thing he'd said, which to me was my black hair.

"I started going gray at 18," I said, "I dye my hair out of necessity."

"Gray would be more cheerful than black," he said, adding that he encouraged his own wife not to disguise her grays. I looked down at my shirt, which was pink.

"I don't wear black all the time,"

"You do. You're like some kind of gothic Kim Kardashian."

"And anyway," I started, my voice faltering, "You're saying I should completely change who I am for my job?"

"I'm telling you people's perception of you. Our Chief said she liked my facial hair once, so I grew a beard." He stroked his beard. "You do what you gotta do."

That's fucked up, I thought.Then I pondered what he said about looking sad. So people disliked me because I occasionally asked for their assistance and apparently looked sad doing it. That's fucked up, I thought again.

"I like Tim Burton," I said, finally. He shrugged.

I thanked him for his time and left the conference room, all the while ruminating over all the outrageous, Jesus-offending things he'd said and done during our time employed together. Not once had I told him to stop publically pushing salvation through The Lord, that he was a dick for going to his and only his birthday luncheon, or that he was an asshole for ripping up the flyers in the face of the Union guys who passed them out.

But then again, he never asked me.