so, i've become convinced that being utterly schizophrenic must be a requirement for upper management. every job i've ever had has had an absolute nutter for a manager, and not in the good way either. there was my obsessive compulsive coffee shop manager, who would tell you to clean the same thing 4 times, regardless of the fact that you had already done it before she even asked you, and then create conspiracy theories involving the bums who came in, thinking they were trying to get her fired. then there was my manager from the movie theater job way back when in idaho, who decided to start an investigation to see if i was dating one of the assistant managers, who happened to be her cousin and good friend, and who would have lost her job if she had been involved with me. then, of course, there were my two lovely bosses from the hostel in prague, one of which was convinced that gypsies were sneaking in the upper floor windows and stealing guest's things, the other who threatened to have somebody shipped across the border into the ukraine where he "knew people" who could make them disappear. This is the past that i'm working from here. Finally, though, I thought I had reached a safe harbor from the maelstrom of mad management. Au contraire.

It all began this tuesday, lolo's birthday- a national holiday (yet to be recognized). The cafe staff, knowing my deep and abiding love of pirates, ruffians, and scalliwags of all sorts, put together a splendid little package of pirate paraphenalia, hook/eye patch/flag/spanish doubloons/tri-quarter hat. Thrilled, I decided to wear the hat during work yesterday, yet was informed by my boss that I couldn't because it wasn't part of dress code. I was bummed, but swiftly over it. Fast forward to today. I was out front doing barista-like things (leaning against the pastry case, most likely) and my boss was in back putting things away with the cafe supervisor. He saw the hat resting on the counter and asked why we had a pirate hat back there. Carly, the badass cafe supervisor, told him that they'd given it to me for my birthday. Completely misplacing his memory of yesterday, he then asked why I wasn't wearing it. Carly could do nothing more than look at him aghast, and remind him that he'd forbade me from wearing it not a day previously. He honestly had no memory of being that menacing authority figure. This is what i deal with, job after job. I'm just trying to figure out now whether they were all loony before they became authority-figures or whether the job twisted them into the sorrowful wrecks that they are today.