Sometimes I want to test the limits of my reign as receptionist here at "Kill'm, Bag'm and Tag'm." I wonder how long I could get away with calling in sick every Friday and Monday? Would they even bat an eye if I started wearing black lipstick? Matching nails? Toes? Would they insist on buying me an ace bandage if I tatooed my neck with a set of lovebirds snaking down to my cleavage? Wonder if they'd even notice if I started answering the phone with a cockney accent: "'alo, LOVE! Right state-o-day, it is!" or if I answered with a long pause "...........................................Good afternoon." It'd certainly weed out the impatient callers!
And maybe this new desire to test my limits is just a sad way of making up for the fact that due to incessant nagging by the "higher-ups" two of my very good friends will soon be leaving, turning in their parking pass and runnin' for the greener hills that are just beyond the horizon.
Sigh.
At least I still have my dignity - then again - I didn't read the employment contract all that closely...
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