Last Wednesday morning, as I was getting ready to head into Cube City, I paused. I turned to my significant stapler and said, "Hey, my performance review is today. Wouldn't it be funny if I wore my YOU DON'T KNOW ME t-shirt?"
What you've got to know about this t-shirt is that it's a thrift-store gem. Brand-new, tags still attached, five bucks. And there's a picture of a lady in a trench coat and pumps on the front, striking a bad-ass pose and busting an attitude. Only then do you notice the touristy words that inform you where this t-shirt came from: Washington DC's International Spy Museum.
I wanted so badly to wear that t-shirt, but I knew it was tacky and rude. So I refrained. And I really don't have any problems with my current manager. Yes, you heard me. My manager is actually within my discipline and knows my challenges. So in a way, she does know me. I'll save the t-shirt gag for my next boss.
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