Another disciplinary paper. I suspected as much after the first paper, and this goes to show they weren't reading what I gave them. The imagination took off.

            To look your best at all times is to show a basic pride in yourself.  It shows that you care about how others view you and your profession.  It presents people with a good first impression as well.  Imagine that two employees of the same company are presented at some type of convention or business meeting.  One of the employees has a stain on his shirt, wrinkled pants, his tie is too short, and his socks are slightly mismatched.  On the other hand, his colleague has been schooled in the art of self-presentation.  He looks like he just stepped out of an Emporio Armani ad.  His tailored pinstriped pants match perfectly with his silver-buttoned silk shirt.  His Kenneth Cole wingtips reflect every fluorescent bulb in the ceiling.  Which employee would you want out on the street, in the boardroom, overseas negotiating deals with foreign investors?  The answer is obvious.  The well-groomed employee is going to get the nod every time.  He or she will be the first one considered for advancement, the first one to come to mind for plush assignments, the first to, in a phrase, move forward.  If given a choice between these two individuals, any sane person would choose to be the latter.  No one wants to go through life known as “that guy down in Support with the wrinkled pants.”  Having said this, it is inevitable that even the most well-prepared and respectable employee will have his or her off days, however infrequent they may be.  One day, sooner or later, our GQ poster boy will roll out on the wrong side of his four-post double-king goose down bed.  As he begins his morning ritual, he is oblivious to the fact that, for one brief moment, fickle Fate and Lady Luck have turned their backs on him.  He goes about his business: taking in Wall Street Journal stock quotes, whistling softly to himself, reveling at the spikes in crude oil prices, brewing his gourmet coffee; his subconscious already preparing his wardrobe for the coming day.  After he finishes his three egg omelet delivered by his favorite caterer, he pads into his marble floored bathroom to lather his morning stubble.  As he carefully shaves his face, he is distracted by thoughts of the cute young intern that has been showing interest in the past few days.  He finishes, rinsing the last suds from his chin, and turns towards the door.  Little does he know, as his trusty Mach 3 glided across his face, his daydreaming cost him almost nothing, just one little patch of stubble underneath his chin.  Perhaps his mirror was too steamed for him to notice, perhaps he trusted in his own skills too well to recheck, but these things are not important, because as a wise man once said, “If if’s and but’s were candy and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.” He continues along his usual early morning routes, dressing in regular fashion, leaving his third story studio flat on time.  He arrives at work on time and is informed, by the pretty young intern of his thoughts, that he has a meeting of some significance with the chief operating officer of the firm.  Enthralled by the possibilities of such an encounter, he barely notices when a courier whisks past, pirouetting through the cubicles, expertly balancing his triple-espresso mocha, but not well enough to avoid one stray aerosol droplet from landing on our hero’s collar.  After stopping by his own office to unload his briefcase and unnecessary items, he makes his way towards the executive wing.  The secretary assigned to the COO is a 42 year-old blonde named Denise with enough natural beauty left to pique the interest of men half her age.  She has secretly lusted after our hero for years now, but she is too insecure to express her feelings beyond a little innocent flirting at random encounters.  Unbeknownst to her, our hero feels much the same way, but due to sad miscommunication at an office mixer a few months back, he believes her to be married.  This meeting between the two runs much the same as the rest, with Denise giving coy glances and our hero flashing devil-may-care smiles.  During this encounter, the protagonist lightly brushes his shoe against the leg of Denise’s desk, just enough to leave a noticeable scuff, which incidentally goes unnoticed in lieu of the flirting.  After a few more moments, our hero enters the lair of his boss, who promptly fires him for looking like crap.  On a more cheerful note, Denise picks up our hero on the rebound and they live happily ever after.  This just goes to show, you can look your best every day, but the day you show up and look like crap, you meet the woman of your dreams.