If you’re a latecomer to the cr*pshow that my life has become, let me share some recent deets.
I went on a date with an Icelandic beauty called Helga, who turned out to be my new boss at work. Worse, she refused to terminate the relationship and has turned my work life into a hellish prison. Apparently, women from Iceland are among the most forward you’ll ever meet.
Yearning to end things, I gave her a piece of my mind via email, only to press ‘Send to All’. Now the HR department is on my case, saying the email amounted to sexual harassment. I got a castigating letter and was ordered to attend a sexual harassment workshop. My pleas to Helga to make it disappear have fallen on deaf ears. It seems I might have succeeded in cutting her off my daily life, but at the cost of this most unwelcome seminar.
At the conference hall are three other people — two men and a woman. The co-culprit next to me is a short, balding man and with a mousy face.
“Hey, pardner,” he says, lowering his glasses to take a peek at me. “What are you in for?”
“Excuse me?” I retort.
“You know, like they say in prison. What are you in for?”
I take another look at him. “I don’t think we’ve met. Do you work here at St Joseph’s?”
“Nah.” He shakes his head and sits back, his arms across his chest. “Public works company over in Ngong. Wanna know what I did? Same thing I always do. Asked Margo to have dinner with me.”
“What do you mean same thing you always do?”
He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Frankly, I truly don’t care about a date with Margo, you know?”
“I know you didn’t have to say ‘frankly’ and ‘truly’ in the same sentence.”
“She’s my secretary,” he continues with nary a pause. “Margo is, you see. Married with kids and all that. Not even close to my type. But I say something like this, she goes running to HR and I end up here.”
Baffled, I ask, “But
why would you want to do that? It’s my first day and I already hate it here.”
“Are you serious?” He rubs his palms together. “Oh, boy, you have no idea what you’re in for.”
“I don’t get it. Is it good or bad? You make it sound bad, yet you also stated you harass your secretary on purpose so you can be…”
My words trail off as the leader of the workshop enters the room. She’s tall and elegant. So gorgeous that the thoughts that run through my mind would make a Catholic father quit.
My neighbour elbows me
in the ribs. “See? What did I tell you? She’s worth spending hours in this
dump, isn’t she?”
I turn to him. “You, my man, are sick and disgusting. The thought that you mistreat one woman to come ogle another one is utterly nauseating.”
I rise to my feet and extend my hand to the lady. “Good morning. Name’s Tom, and I don’t believe I belong here.”
“Nice try, Tom,” she says
matter-of-factly. “Take your seat and listen carefully. Everyone here thinks he
shouldn’t be. And, oh, they’ve all tried hitting on me, which is more sexual
harassment, no?”
My bald neighbour scoffs. “Hehe. Amateur.”
