Apparently I'm Inappropriate.

Ok. You can take your standards and shove them right up that professional little ass of yours. Newsflash: you are the only person who has ever expressed a concern for my conversation topics of choice. I don't give a fuck about the delicate sensibilities of others. Actually, I do a little. I don't talk about controversial topics. Not religion, not politics, not womens' rights or minority issues. I do my best to refrain from sharing my opinions. Occasionally, if the conversation naturally goes in that direction, I'll talk about social issues like culture, drugs, and poverty.

You, on the other hand, might know how to talk about silly little superficial shit like lipstick and purses, but if you want to talk about standards, I would say that there is no contest about whose are higher. You waste your brain juice on fashion, fad diets, makeup, and pretty pink office supplies. I applaud your ability to be direct, but don't for a second think that your standards are better than mine. I'm not the one who spends their time commenting on how poorly dressed others are.

Here's a hint: if you want people to be comfortable in your office, don't encourage an environment of stuffiness. My openness is one of the greatest abilities I utilize. It's what makes me approachable. It's what makes people trust me. It's why the new girl and I were able to bond on her first day, and it's probably going to be why she comes to me with questions or concerns. If you were as smart as you think you are, you would utilize that skill and take some of the training load off of yourself. Who cares if it's not "office appropriate?" We're not in a board room or at a networking function. (newsflash: I have one of the best track records with those) We're behind closed doors at a rinky-dink insurance office run by a former construction worker.

You might think that social norms are of the utmost importance, but the fact of the matter is that the new girl is going to be really, really uncomfortable if you essentially tell her to shut up like you did me. Much, much more uncomfortable than she was when she initiated a personal conversation with me. And she's likely going to think that I'm a stiff-ass bitch for ignoring her prompts from here on out.

Listen lady, you seem nice enough, but the more time I spend with you, the more you get on my bad side. I am not your teenage daughter (somehow I'm not surprised that you can't get her to listen to you) and if you keep making it a point to criticize my petty little nothings I might not be able to resist spiteful disobedience.