About this time one year ago I was being fired from a job I loved, thus catapulting me into this current stage of my adulting adventure.
I excelled at that job in every way and was ultimately dismissed after training three new-hires over the age of 50. These three all seemed to agree my wigs and colorful makeup and young attitude were almost as disruptive to the office work environment as the BULLSHIT stamp I kept at my desk, and were quick to tell CEO Karen how offended they were with my overall self. Never mind that stamp had been at my desk for over a year, or the fact I never wore colorful wigs when I knew I’d be client-facing that day. I’m a fucking professional, after all.
When I moved to California, I started in a position almost identical to the one I was asked to leave in Colorado. So then no shit there I was, continuing to do things exactly the same way, when my efforts were received with a promotion instead of an invitation to discontinue my attendance at the office.
Now I work on the beach surrounded by awesome people, for a company that thankfully spends most of its time forgetting I exist. When they do think to check in on me, they don’t care if I say bullshit since oddly enough that doesn’t have a bearing on my job performance. So fuck you, Karen. But also, thanks. I’m far more successful now than I ever could have been under your tyrannical management.