My boss is something else. To set the scene, he's a shorter, muscular Indian man from Canada, and I'm... hell, average height non binary (read; I get called sir and ma'am in the same interaction) bitch from Texas. I just walked in the door, still feeling the night before, definitely in need of caffeine.
H; "So, tell me. You have an okay job, you have your green card, beginnings of a good life, right? Yet, you look like *gestures vaguely in my direction* a mess!"
M(e); *energy drink in hand, hair looking like I got electrocuted, shirt untucked* "Dude, I show up on time and get shit done, I dunno what else you want from me."
I absolutely adore this man, but I did not need to be come at like that on a Thursday morning.
And no, he actually doesn't care what I look like as long as I don't bite a customer.