the pretty things are going to hell

a few days ago at work i had my 90 day review. other than being pathetic at soliciting credit, it went really well. i received the highest marks possible on everything, even dress code, though my manager had to think about it for a moment:

she stared at me intently for a second or two, looking at my pink and black hair, my half-sleeve tattoo, my studded plaid wristband, and my skater shoes.

“well, you wear your nametag!” she chirped, and circled the highest score.