Well, that’s not the impression I got, Dave.
I think you’re being incredibly unfair about this.
So, Lois over there comes in wearing a pair of stonewashed mom jeans and a stained fucking Loony Tunes sweatshirt and I’m the asshole?
Just let me ask you this: Spirit or letter?
Spirit or letter. It’s a simple question, Dave.
I know you’re my supervisor. That’s why I haven’t called you a dick yet.
Yet.
If you want to adhere to the spirit of the law, then I’m completely in the right.
I realize that Casual Friday is not a law.
No. I disagree with you there. That’s where we differ. Among other places. Like whether it’s okay to drink at lunch.
Casual Friday is–Dave, let me finish–Casual Friday is a right.
Wow. Just, wow. You actually said it.
I mean, I knew it, but you actually said it.
We don’t have any rights. Except the right to eat shit sandwiches and get beaten down when we ask for salt.
Is it, Dave? Is it too far?
The spirit of Casual Friday as I understand it is to accomplish two things. One: to allow people to feel like they’re on vacation. A small, at their desk, vacation. It makes the work week seem like half a day shorter.
Yes, I really feel that way.
And two: it provides the workers with the opportunity to express themselves. To allow some of their real self to show. Like Phil over there, wearing his same fucking outfit that he wears everyday. Because you’ve digested his soul and this place–that sad fucking pair of pleat front khakis and that shirt with the fishing lures print design–that’s what he is now.
But not me. This is me. And this is me casual. So you want to see this coming across HR’s desk, bring it.
Do I look scared?
I can't believe you even noticed me sitting at my desk.
