The Frisky Office
My days have become long and monotonous as I work 40-45 hour weeks surrounded by padded cubicle walls. A joyous occassion in my life has been reduced to getting out of my swivel chair and fetching myself some Motel 6-quality coffee. However, as I mentioned in a previous entry (ya my life is redundant), certain office quirks help me get through torturous hours of data entry.
Last week I was assigned to a new supervisor and she is definitely the cure to my data entry blues. This woman (I won't mention her name because of the novelty effect it will give her), is rather flirtatious with me and is constantly cracking jokes with other employees that come across as brilliant office banter. Well actually, her name is Carrie and I mention this because she tells people on the phone, "the name's Carrie, like the 1976 horror classic." The other day was truly golden when a man in a wheelchair went rummaging through her candy jars of sour apple Jolly Ranchers and she caught him in the act. She doesn't mind people going through her candy. She even sets it out for anyone to take, but if she catches you, then you are fair game for wise cracks. As she saw the wheelchair guy, she yelled, "That candy's gonna cost ya!" This of course was followed by her incessant laughter. She is the kind of woman that laughs after everything no matter what. Even when I tell her I'm going to lunch she starts cracking up. After the laughing, she jokingly added, "Jeez Pablo, you're so retarded!" This of course caught me off guard and I started half laughing-half sweating. He isn't retarded, but the common response for people like me is to associate anyone with a disability in the same category. Therefore, I found her comment oddly inappropriate, yet I was also strangely refreshed about her complete disregard for today's political correctness.
Additionally, when speaking to me over my shoulder, she sometimes will touch my shoulder which makes me awkwardly flinch, but then I feel comfortable. Although she's 45ish and married, I really hope that I'm somehow an integral part of some office fantasy. It's like that Belle and Sebastian song "Step Into My Office, Baby." I just love how she can confidently straddle the line of a sexual harassment lawsuit with me. Then again if this kind of thing is wrong, then I don't want to be right. I love being her sort of new-to-the-office, younger male secretary (even though I'm not even a secretary - my job's a lot lamer than that). The only sad thing about our fantasy relationship though is that she just doesn't fit into my rules for dating/relations:
1. No divorced women
2. No women
Last week I was assigned to a new supervisor and she is definitely the cure to my data entry blues. This woman (I won't mention her name because of the novelty effect it will give her), is rather flirtatious with me and is constantly cracking jokes with other employees that come across as brilliant office banter. Well actually, her name is Carrie and I mention this because she tells people on the phone, "the name's Carrie, like the 1976 horror classic." The other day was truly golden when a man in a wheelchair went rummaging through her candy jars of sour apple Jolly Ranchers and she caught him in the act. She doesn't mind people going through her candy. She even sets it out for anyone to take, but if she catches you, then you are fair game for wise cracks. As she saw the wheelchair guy, she yelled, "That candy's gonna cost ya!" This of course was followed by her incessant laughter. She is the kind of woman that laughs after everything no matter what. Even when I tell her I'm going to lunch she starts cracking up. After the laughing, she jokingly added, "Jeez Pablo, you're so retarded!" This of course caught me off guard and I started half laughing-half sweating. He isn't retarded, but the common response for people like me is to associate anyone with a disability in the same category. Therefore, I found her comment oddly inappropriate, yet I was also strangely refreshed about her complete disregard for today's political correctness.
Additionally, when speaking to me over my shoulder, she sometimes will touch my shoulder which makes me awkwardly flinch, but then I feel comfortable. Although she's 45ish and married, I really hope that I'm somehow an integral part of some office fantasy. It's like that Belle and Sebastian song "Step Into My Office, Baby." I just love how she can confidently straddle the line of a sexual harassment lawsuit with me. Then again if this kind of thing is wrong, then I don't want to be right. I love being her sort of new-to-the-office, younger male secretary (even though I'm not even a secretary - my job's a lot lamer than that). The only sad thing about our fantasy relationship though is that she just doesn't fit into my rules for dating/relations:
1. No divorced women
2. No women