Yesterday a time came that I always look forward to, work evaluations.
This being a time where my boss and I agree it is one of the rare occurrences in which there is simply no room for improvement. I sort of imagine it being the way Pamela Anderson feels in a tight fitting top…there is just simply no room.
All was going swell with me being ranked perfectly average in every category up until…professionalism.
My boss had one word for me.
My Boss: Savannah, I have heard you drop the F bomb in front of other staff members a couple of times. I don’t think they heard you, but you use it in your regular vocabulary.
Me: Fuck, I’m sorry. Oops.
My Boss: I really enjoy working with you and lot of people enjoy working with you.
Me: Thank-you, that really means a lot.
My Boss: This is great except for…people tend to congregate at the desk when you are working.
Me: Well fuck, I can’t help it if people just like being around me. Did I say fuck again? I can see how this is becoming a problem.
While my overall ranking was smack dab in the middle of the scale, which appears to be a reoccurring theme in my life, I could not help but think my evaluation was above average.
In my eyes, my boss had just told me that I had a more expansive vocabulary than my coworkers and because of this people gravitated towards me. Fuck yeah! Ya know?
Anyhow, I continued my sunshine stroll on home to my apartment at the end of the day only to feel one of my favorite feelings, unwanted, coming in at a close second to hopeless but falling just short of deeply regretful.
While I tried cooking cheap pasta, listening to Fleetwood Mac, listening to French cassette tapes I cannot understand and watching the Like Crazy trailer several times, it seemed nothing would do the trick. Hell, I even tried organizing my closet, breaking up the fight when my purple turtleneck called my lace camisole a whore.
I have every blue you can think of; turquoise, sky, cobalt, baby navy…just to name a few.
Any thoughts on ridding me of these jazz-less blues?