Wednesday, May 27, 2015

She Works Hard For The Money

I try to keep my work life and my personal life separate. If you ever come in and see me at work, you may notice I look like a deer in headlights and our conversation will be very short. It's not that I don't like you or that I don't want to talk to you, sometimes I just feel like I am being watched and my every move is being monitored. You know, just your everyday, run of the mill, non-paranoid thoughts. No biggie.*Puts on tinfoil hat*

Same thing goes if I see regulars outside of work. Most of the time they don't really recognize me out of context but once in awhile I get someone really hellbent on figuring it out. A couple weekends ago I stopped by to watch my sister do karaoke and I sang a couple songs with her. Throughout the maybe hour or two I was there, this guy kept coming up to me saying, " I know you! How do I know you?! Hey guys, how do I know her?" I kept telling him I didn't know what he was talking about and he was confusing me with someone else. I was literally seconds away from putting on a fake (and unconvincingly terrible) Russian accent and yelling random words at him in an attempt to hid my true identity. What I thought this would accomplish, I have no idea. It was definitely one of those "It's so crazy, it might just work!" moments.

Eventually my personal life does tend to seep into my work life. Sometimes I meet people at work who I think are really cool and I talk to them about my real life. Or I'll talk about my weekend shenanigans. I just don't want people to walk in and and start running their mouths in front of my bosses like "HEY! Nice snapchat of you peeing on a gravel road!" or "HEY! Remember that time I saw you at that concert screaming World Star Hip Hop while that guy was being arrested!?" or "HEY! Was that you making out with a cardboard stand up of Zachary Quinto? You know he's gay in real life right?" Yeah I do know. How about you worry about your own life and leave me and Sylar alone in our forbidden love!

Quit calling me out in front of my work peeps, yo. Respect the code! Being told my every personal thought and action, such as adventures in anal suppositories, passing out on New Year's before 11:00pm in my friend's bathroom and my part-time dressing up like a man by the name of Dick Cockburn, even when you don't want to know and you never asked for this life.. is a PRIVILEGE! One I will not revoke but if you come in talking that shit, I will tp your house. Me, cardboard Sylar and all my awkward papercuts.

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