terminal terminal terminal terminal preppie
i'm taking on another day of work because i love my job way more than i should. i'm not kidding. four days a week, baby here i come.
everything about it! the five different ringtones for three different phone lines! the contracts that have to be endlessly photocopied! the irrational clients! the secretive meetings! ordering lunch for the senior attorney! wandering around totally fucking lost in the new york state supreme court! drowning in files! drowning in post-it notes! making endless cups of tea! my boss who calls everyone "sweetheart", even the delivery boy! and his accountant! the way the woman who announces "this stop...Wall Street" on the subway says it with capital letters! that "Wall Street" is my stop! it sounds like i might be sarcastic, but i'm not!
so my entire paycheck for the next two weeks will have to go towards an unlimited fare metrocard, and things i can wear to the office. because the world's largest collection of black t-shirts and a pair of combat boots, which served me well through a boarding stable, a diner, a comic book store and two libraries, will no longer cut it in the Financial District. maybe they have casual fridays. but will it ever be casual enough for me to wear a belt buckle shaped like a grinning skull with glowing eyes? or fishnet? is there a way to make fishnet tasteful? what about hot pink legwarmers? please don't let me start thinking about my entire wardrobe as trashy. how am i going to come through on my plan to one day live in a squat and eat mainly organic rice if i have to iron everything i ever wear?
i'm going to become the world's Youngest Urban Professional. Ikea? check. vast amount of unnecessary posessions? check. loyalty to a brand of tea? check.
fuck.
everything about it! the five different ringtones for three different phone lines! the contracts that have to be endlessly photocopied! the irrational clients! the secretive meetings! ordering lunch for the senior attorney! wandering around totally fucking lost in the new york state supreme court! drowning in files! drowning in post-it notes! making endless cups of tea! my boss who calls everyone "sweetheart", even the delivery boy! and his accountant! the way the woman who announces "this stop...Wall Street" on the subway says it with capital letters! that "Wall Street" is my stop! it sounds like i might be sarcastic, but i'm not!
so my entire paycheck for the next two weeks will have to go towards an unlimited fare metrocard, and things i can wear to the office. because the world's largest collection of black t-shirts and a pair of combat boots, which served me well through a boarding stable, a diner, a comic book store and two libraries, will no longer cut it in the Financial District. maybe they have casual fridays. but will it ever be casual enough for me to wear a belt buckle shaped like a grinning skull with glowing eyes? or fishnet? is there a way to make fishnet tasteful? what about hot pink legwarmers? please don't let me start thinking about my entire wardrobe as trashy. how am i going to come through on my plan to one day live in a squat and eat mainly organic rice if i have to iron everything i ever wear?
i'm going to become the world's Youngest Urban Professional. Ikea? check. vast amount of unnecessary posessions? check. loyalty to a brand of tea? check.
fuck.