It's enough that I have to commute to work most days when I can easily get my work done from home. Then, in an attempt to further crush my soul and leave me as the empty shell of my former self, my employer introduces "business casual" as a requirement of our dress code. Spiky polo shirts with deformed collars, a retractable security badge that sometimes hits my balls when I let go, an endless sea of mustard-stained khakis, and chipped cheap black leather belts. anything to give the impression that I care about my work. You know what, boss... I wear the damn slippers to work and there's nothing you can do about it! While all these other fools use their free time in the mornings to tie their shoes with rope like pilgrims, I still doze off like the Cosby scrolls. I may be a corporate puppet, but I cut a set of strings. You can't have my legs because now they're untied and could pull me away from this charade.