Last week I found a smallish tear in the elbow of one of my work-shirts. I don’t know for sure how it got there. My best bet is that a particularly stealthy ninja tried to assassinate me, but missed and sliced my shirt instead. Because of the Internet, I haven’t yet gotten around to sewing it back together again like the distinguished gentleman that I am.
So today, I decided to just wear it anyway. I figured that no one would dare call me out on it and if I acted surprised when they did, it would all work out. Luckily, it seems that my coworkers and employers had more pressing concerns than the state of my shirt, so no one noticed or cared.
However, (and if you follow me on Twitter you may already know this) the Big Boss dropped by to visit. There are people that have worked here for 25 years and only seen him once or twice. Everyone assured me that he wouldn’t walk all the way down to my office, and that I needn’t worry. Of course, that’s exactly what happened.
Due to my masterful maneuvering, he was none the wiser, and I clocked out with my employment intact. This whole series of events is like this Cracked article I read today. The relatively small flaw in my (obviously) otherwise impeccable appearance was a bigger deal to me than everybody else presumably worrying about their own problems. Realizing (in this and other situations) that ‘nobody cares’ is incredibly freeing, because then I don’t have to care either.