Hear me roar

Today I was told that I need to change my haircolor. They have, you see, written and issued a "company handbook" and apparently one of the owners has a problem with my haircolor. Apparently it's offensive.

Now I will readily admit that it's bright, and most women would feel awkward with hair as bright and short as mine. But whatever, I'm not most women. Despite the fact that I'm the only one who is licensed for PT in that office right now, they want to push this issue with me. I was...not entirely happy. I came home for lunch, and decided to ride back. Changed into gear, packed a bag, and set off.

I made it to the office and pulled 'round back, jumped off and ran inside while I was still taking my helmet off because I didn't know if I was late and I still had to change. I threw open the back door and rushed down the hallway  and all I could hear was chatter.

"Who's that on the bike?"
"Who rides around here?"
"Is that someone who works here?"

Then I rounded the corner into the break room with my helmet in my hand and the room pretty much exploded.

"It's ERIN!"
"I didn't know you rode!"
"Is that bike really yours?"
"We were talking about who that rider could be and it's YOU!"

Everyone was fascinated by my ride. I changed into scrubs and clocked in, but everyone kept commenting to me on how cool it was and how great it is that I'm a biker. When I was leaving that night I had to change again. I was sitting in a chair wearing my leather jacket and tying my boots, and one of the massage therapists came into the room.

"I think it's great that you ride, but I was completely shocked that the bike belongs to you!" She commented.
I looked up. "You never figured me for being a badass biker chick, huh?"
She laughed and blushed. "Well...no. You seem so...quiet."
I grinned at her and just observed, "The quiet ones are the ones with the best secrets." She agreed. Still waters run deep, indeed!