The Sun don't shine, or remember names

I've been at my job for almost two months now. I mention this only because today marks the fifth time that the president and CEO of the company has failed to remember my name while introducing me to another person. Now, with a whopping 14 employees working for him, Sunny (yes that's his name) cannot be expected to remember every single person's name. The fact that I can spend all day reading blogs on myspace and learning state capitals (Montpelier, what?) without a single person caring does not make me feel insignificant. However, I take some offense to being what is apparently just another nameless white girl.

The strange thing is that Sunny is very good with the names of the strippers who work here. I mean, Sarah, Erica, Christina - I can barely keep them straight. But i suspect that after so many lap dances, a girl starts to leave an impression. A gigantic fake-breasted impression. I should think that by being the only non-stripping white girl, my uniqueness alone would set me apart from the rest and warrant a name, but I guess it's foolish to think that in Sunny's mind, I'll ever be anything but that little biscuit who doesn't take her clothes off for money. I'm just saying that if I'm ever the CEO of a fake publishing company, I will require name tags to be worn at all times. Or I will mandate that all employees show me their tits. Hollaaa!