Aug 19, 2011 20:19
Me: So, my day at work was weird and carrying vague yet perturbing sexual overtones.
Friend: Oh?
Me: Well, first, I found out that the company stocks the monthly issue of Maxim magazine in the break room (and let me tell you, that's one publication that's gone downhill from a sea level start), and then when I was working register, some guy spent his entire transaction staring openly at my chest.
Friend: Wow.
Me: Which was a little awkward, but mostly perplexing. It was like, dude, I have no cleavage to speak of and I'm wearing a shirt that looks like it's made out of a grandmother's handbag. What are you getting out of this?
Friend: You underestimate your breasts.
Me: You overestimate the shirt. I'm hoping it comes apart in the wash so I don't have to look at it anymore.
Friend: Well, he was probably picturing you without it.
Me: Most likely. I think everyone who looked at me today was picturing me without it. I know I was.
Friend: Mm.
Me: Then again, the guy was wearing a Cleveland Browns shirt, so he's probably used to taking what he can get.
ugliest shirt,
my job is creepy,
work