The other day, there was a list posted at work, asking all employees to write down a couple personal details to help our boss with her holiday shopping. Personal? Just little things, you know, like your bra size. On display. For everyone in the office to read. I don't think we're getting food this year.
I answered her questions (nothing like a little peer pressure, right?) and returned to my job, answering phones and posting insurance checks. The list was thankfully removed from the wall at some point. Later that afternoon, I received a call from a man that I was just about ready to send to collections, (ain't I mean?) who wanted to resolve his balance.
As I wrote down his credit card information, I could hear giggling from my coworkers behind me. The next thing I knew, my boss was standing over me, holding a long string of dental floss. My posted bra size? She wasn't believing it and had decided that the most logical thing to do was measure me herself using the floss. In front of everyone. While talking to a patient.
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Unsurprisingly, I discovered when I went to process the credit card payment that I'd taken down the information wrong.