Human Resources

Welcome to HR. I never intended to work for a fashion company but a month after I started here, the company owner suggested I lay off my direct report and add her pay to my salary. So I decided to stay. 

This office uses an open floor plan. There are no wall dividers. Employees can see and hear each other from anywhere in the building. Once, an accountant tried tapping a poster board to the edge of her desk to hide behind. I immediately confiscated it. It’s still in my office.

Be sure to wear at least one article of clothing from the company every day. Doing so shows that you support the company, and will help you fit in with the culture. Jeans start at $250 and blouses at $220.

The bathroom walls are floor-to-ceiling mirrors. In the handicap stall, you can watch yourself pee. The ghost, she’s here almost every time I have to use the bathroom.  Sometimes she’s pacing the room, other times she’s staring at herself, hyperventilating on the wall. “Why doesn’t my hair grow anymore?” I’ve heard her ask to her reflection. Another time I came in to see her applying eyeliner with a shaky hand while crying. Her tears washed away the makeup faster than she could redraw it. Black pools ran down her cheeks as she continuously reapplied in between whimpers. I told her waterproof eyeliner would solve her problems, but this just made her cry even harder. I don’t know why I even bother. 

Paul, I.T., is in the center of the building. If your laptop is having technical problems, I recommend trying to fix it over email. If you go to his office, he tends to stand very close to women when he talks to them. 

For the last two weeks, her sleep paralysis demon has been following us in to work. It towers behind our desk as she works at her computer. I immediately emailed her the employee pet policy, saying that she must first register the pet and that all pets are required to wear a flea collar. This is a fashion house full of clothing, for peat’s sake! Bed bugs and fleas would be the end of us. Last week I tried slipping a flea collar on it as it bent down to fit in the office entrance, but I couldn’t get the collar past its ears. 

 “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to work here.” she croaked as she started sobbing again. This was all choreographed perfectly and I got what I wanted. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Her former boss and I watched her for a minute. Eventually, her breathing slowed, her eyes closed and she slumped into her chair. Her sleep paralysis demon, who had been waiting outside my office door, reached its hand in and dragged the girl by her shirt collar out of the chair, across the floor, past the designers’ desks, and out the main entrance. That's the last time I ever saw her. She passed on. I assume she found another place that was a better fit for her.