Company Bitch Trip Faux Paus

I had to work this weekend—"work" being a term I loosely use to mean anything the company makes me do. In this case, working involved being shuttled off to another city where my primary obligation seemed to be to drink with various consultants for the company. Ahhh, finally, some aspect of my job I can do well.

Still, even with so simple a task at hand, I managed to commit a few faux paus. First, there was the time I was to meet people at a cocktail party/reception. I became nervous about impressing these higher up colleagues of mine and so ordered a glass of wine, called my mother on my cell phone and grabbed a dumpling that had been floating by on a tray. Alcohol, mommy and food—how could I not feel better instantly?

Perhaps the triple-threat attempt to calm my nerves would have succeeded, but one will never know for sure because just as I had gotten my mother on the phone, the colleague I was meeting appeared before me. Trying to hold on to my alcohol, say good-bye to my mother, dispose of my dumpling and shake a man’s hand proved to be too much for me. My alcohol (red wine, of course) was the casualty, spilling all over the man’s shoes. His name was Jim. We got along after I blushed, stammered and apologized for two hours.

Second best in company bitch humiliation was my conversation with a rather lecherous old man who was clearly trying to shock me via various avenues. Any direct questions about my boyfriend and indirect questions about my sex life had been met with a confused look (not feigned—I am confused) and so he moved on to literary smut.

"Do you know Anne Rice’s pen name?"

"Oooo!" I exclaimed, happy to be off the topic of Ex-Boyfriend as Current-Boyfriend Or Something. "The Sleeping Beauty trilogy! I love those! She writes as A.N. Roquelaure!" The instant the words were out of my mouth I knew that they, as well as my marked enthusiasm, were a mistake. Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty books involve graphic sado-masochism with women being ridden around as horses and having kinky sex with all sorts of men to prove they are worthy of love.

The lecherous old man almost looked more shocked than pleased.

"How can you say that without looking embarrassed?" he asked incredulously. "I’m fascinated."

I said nothing and ran. Or rather, walked away very swiftly. (I was wearing heels).


Drinking, fending off strange men and attempting to charm others while making a valiant effort not to slur my speech is the best job description I have ever had. But now I am back behind my computer, already bored and still scared of my boss. Such is life.