RIP My favourite next tie

# The Ballad of Stripeus the Eternal: A Necktie's Journey Through the Realms of Middle Management *From the Chronicles of the Great Wardrobe, Volume MMXIV* Gather 'round, ye warriors of the corporate realm, ye knights of the quarterly meeting, ye brave souls who have stood before the dreaded Dragon of HR! Today we speak of legend. Today we honor a hero whose deeds shall echo through the halls of memory like the footsteps of ancient giants upon marble floors. I speak of **Stripeus the Eternal**—the Necktie of Destiny, the Silk Serpent of Office Tower Nine, the Chosen One Who Hung Valiantly Around My Neck Through Ten Thousand Meetings and More. In the beginning, when the world was young and my collar still crisp, Stripeus emerged from the mystical Bazaar of Department Stores, woven by master craftsmen in distant lands. The prophecy foretold that this was no ordinary necktie—nay! This was a legendary artifact, imbued with the power of Professional Appearance +10 and the Enchantment of Looking Like You Have Your Life Together. From our first fateful binding—that sacred Monday morning ritual of the Windsor Knot—Stripeus became my constant companion through adventures both grand and tedious. Together, we conquered the Labyrinth of Annual Reviews, where lesser neckwear would fray under the scrutiny of the all-seeing Performance Manager. We survived the Siege of the Conference Room That Went Three Hours Over, sustained only by stale pastries and passive-aggressive sighs. Oh, what quests we undertook! When the dire missive arrived—"Mandatory Team Building Exercise at 8 AM"—there was Stripeus, wrapped nobly around my throat, a talisman against forced trust falls and ice-breaker questions. When the fearsome Client of Unreasonable Expectations descended upon our kingdom demanding the impossible, Stripeus hung there like a banner of false confidence, whispering ancient words of power: "Let me check my calendar and get back to you." But Stripeus was more than mere decoration. This legendary companion possessed mystical abilities unknown to common haberdashery. Chief among these was the Sacred Art of the Diplomatic Excuse—the power to transform any unwanted obligation into an acceptable declination. "Can you take on this additional project?" the Dark Lords of Upper Management would inquire. And lo! I would gesture to Stripeus, that noble strip of fabric, and proclaim: "I am **tied up** at present. My schedule is **bound** with existing commitments. I fear I am too **knotted** in current obligations." The excuse was irrefutable! For was I not, quite literally, tied up? Was not Stripeus himself the physical manifestation of my being bound to other duties? The wordplay was so powerful, so magnificently literal, that none could argue. Stripeus had granted me the Amulet of Plausible Deniability, and I wielded it with the skill of a seasoned diplomat. Together, we journeyed through the Realm of First Impressions, where Stripeus's vibrant pattern caught the eye of the Elders at That Interview That Actually Went Well. We ventured into the Caverns of Casual Friday, where Stripeus alone maintained order against the chaos of untucked shirts and the heresy of flip-flops. We stood firm in the Presentation Before the Board, where lesser ties would have trembled, but Stripeus hung straight and true, a banner of courage against the spreadsheet of doom. The memories! Oh, by the gods of polyester and silk blends, the memories! Stripeus bore witness to the Great Coffee Spill of 2019 (a wound from which he never fully recovered, but bore with dignity). He was there when I received the news of my promotion, hanging proudly like a medal of honor. He consoled me during the Firing of Dave from Accounting, whom everyone liked but who kept using the microwave for fish. And then... the mystery. The cruel twist of fate. One moment, Stripeus hung in his customary place within the Closet of Professional Attire. The next... he was gone. Vanished. Some say he was consumed by the Dryer Dimension, that terrible void that claims one sock from every pair. Others whisper that he was stolen by envious rivals who coveted his power. The bards speak of a possible encounter with the Moth of Malevolence, though no evidence remains. His loss echoes through my morning routine like a missing verse in an ancient song. I reach for him, and grasp only empty air. The other ties hang there, pretenders to the throne, but none possess Stripeus's magic. Yet though Stripeus has passed beyond the veil into that great Closet in the Sky, his legacy endures. He taught me that style matters. That excuses can be both true and hilarious. That sometimes, the best reason not to do something is that you're simply... **tied up**. Rest now, noble Stripeus. May your pattern never fade in the eternal light. May your knot remain forever perfect. *So it is written in the Chronicles of Business Casual.* **THE END** --- *"He bound us together, this we know. For Stripeus loved us so."*