They say you
mustn’t ever mix business with pleasure. I always figured that it was a mere
suggestion, rather than a rule to live by. Boy, was I wrong. Teaching at
a school (more like assistant teaching), I learned to heed the warning—the hard
way. I took on an internship at a local school through an
alum-turned-friend from college. There were initially two teaching
interns. When we were given the initial tour of the school, something—or rather
someone—stuck out: a very, very, VERY tall man with boyish looks. Of course, my
luck being as it is, I was placed into his classroom to co-teach. Strike one.
So, over the course of the
semester, I got to know this man pretty well. I, being a bit of a tomboy
at times, was able to bond with him one day playing basketball. Believe it or
not, folks, but I’m pretty gnarly (yes. I’m bringing it back) in basketball. I
suppose he was impressed when I started playing basketball daily with our
students. Perhaps even more impressed when I relaxed in the position (and in my
life outside of the school) and started actually dressing like an
adult—dresses, skirts, blouses, heels, the works—yet continued to play
basketball with the students, heels and all. Anyway, after a while I noticed
that the dynamic had slightly shifted. It was as if he made it a point to be
near me, talk to me, etc. Then to top it all off, my other coworkers insisted
that he had some sort of schoolboy crush on me. Did I mention that he is
younger than I am? Yeah. We’ll come back to this issue in another post.
One weekend, the dynamic
changed. Not exponentially, but after hanging out with him outside of school,
ish was never the same. Strike Two. The next Monday at school, this boy was
gazing at me as if I were the last Flintstones Sorbet push-pop on the most
offensively hot days of summer. Me, being the oblivious one that I am
(I’m sure my cohorts would cosign this notion), went on as if nothing
happened. Eventually, the puppy dog looks and inappropriate staring in
front of the children drove me to confide in my friend. She claimed she knew he
had a crush all along. In fact, he used to call me his girlfriend behind
my back. And then there was my favorite—texting me from across the room. Not
even across a huge room. He’d be facing me and would text me dumb ish.
Needless to say, the rest of the semester was…well…awkward. Not because we kept
messing around (because we didn’t) but because he’s an awkward individual.
Strike 3. Over the summer, I hung out with him once more before determining
that I was THROUGH.
I’ll spare you all of the
details. Just know that I’m never doing that again. Not that he’s a terrible
person. I’m sure deep down inside, there’s a personality just WAITING to get
out. To this day, it’s just one of those “what the hell was I thinking”
moments. Overall, It’s better to just avoid office romances or pseudo-romances
altogether. Unless you’re sure it’s some kind of Harlequin-esque love
connection, steer clear. Remember that you’ll have to see said person the
weekday, and one of you is going to think it’s more than what it is. And it
will get awkward. Especially if one party wanted nothing further to do with the
other.
♦♣♠♥
My lovely cohort would
attempt to be a lady about this, which is quite refreshing, though I however am
about to abandon all of the Midwestern/Southern tutelage my mama has ever
attempted to instill in me. An office liaison will either be so amazing
you want to punch an angel, or so heart-wrenchingly, head poundingly, gut
turningly (yea I made those up, it’s our blog, shut it) awful that you want to
level your office and slap a heaux. Let me lay a little background on you
.
Certain things bother me
and always will; men who drag their feet, eat with their mouth open while
talking, reach into your plate without asking, men who duck walk, men who talk
when you ask for silence, who want to share their feelings when you’re trying
to drink your wine, men who start touching you all over when they don’t know
you (especially when you said don’t), who tag along when not invited, annnnnnnd
anyone, ANYONE who doesn’t do their job, therefore, making my job harder.
Basically, you can take from this that I’m a bit of a bitc-excuse me, heifer (I
guess me cursing takes the unlady-likeness of this post too far). I have
never met a man who embodied all my dislikes in one place, I mean really, that
man can’t exist! Wrongo. He existed, and during the busiest season at my
job, he showed up.
Now personally, when he
first arrived, it seemed a pleasant change of scenery. He was a relative
gentleman, another brown face, and seemed sweet. His job was quite
simple, file paperwork. Right off the bat I handed him my stack and went
back to my hectic desk. He took this as the perfect opportunity to talk
to me, which was fine, I like the chase, until it got awkward. He would
spend all of his time talking to me while I was trying to work, including
interrupting business phone-calls with clients to show me something he thought
was funny. He would interrupt conversations I had with coworkers so he
could throw in his two cents, even if they were in private corners, even if we
told him we needed a moment. Then he’d just lean on whatever I was
sitting in and wait, while staring, intently. My personal favorite moment
was during a conversation with my boss in her office; he walked in, sat on the
edge of her desk and began to regale us with “Oooo yea, that’s interesting,
reminds me of the time…” (I blacked out in a fit of red rage here so I don’t
remember the story). My boss, being the most awesome heifer that walked
this planet, kindly sent him on his way with a, “how’s that paperwork coming?”
She then turned to me and said “You know you’re going to have to let
brother man down right? I suggest you wait until his contract is up, but
this has got to change. I don’t have time to find another assistant when
you go to prison, and judging by the hate and larceny you have written on your
face, that’s where this is going.” Things liked this happened for a while
and a few times I absolutely snapped, exorcist style. The worst time was
when he put his hand in the slit sleeve of my shirt, stroked my arm and
said “ I know you don’t like being touched, but I’m just a toucher, and since
you had something spilled on you, I’ll just have to lick it off too.”
I’ve never wanted to slap the smarmy look off of someone’s face so hard in my
life. My mind blanks out the rest of that night…(for HR purposes).
Luckily, he was only a temp, so I got to get rid of him, but others may not be
so lucky.
In the end, this could
simply be a one-time kind of event, maybe it won’t happen to you, though it
probably will if you decide to get creative within the office. It isn’t
worth the headache. They always say don’t shi…I mean defecate, where you
eat and I 100% agree. If you like the convenience, date someone from the office
next door, date the person from the parking space assigned next to you,
date your dry cleaner, your dog walker, your landlord (but I don’t suggest
those last three either really), just not a coworker. Come to think of
it, don’t ever date or sleep with your room mate either, but that’s another
post…
~Angeliqué & Ashley (respectively), BossBeauties
Follow us on Twitter! @bossbeauties
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