Dinner And Drinks And Penetration

April 30, 2007 at 11:45 PM | Posted in Journal | 2 Comments
  The company I work for is a great company.  As proof, we won "Best Place to Work" in St Louis in our size category this year.  Last year, I heard we were third, and the CEO was noticeably upset.  He took it personally.  "How can we NOT be the best?" is what I am sure he was thinking.
  I’ve been here for two years.  In that time, I have learned a little about the sublties of office politics.  Enough to know that I really, really don’t know anything, and I am in way over my head.
  I just–
  Let me start from the beginning.

  When I first started I was so excited about the prospect of working regular hours.  Up until this time, I always worked nights and weekends, holidays, odd hours–things like that.  This was an adjustment to my internal circadian.  My stomach had to adjust as well.
  But it was also a different environment to be in.  I am surrounded–completely surrounded–by women.  At first I reveled in it.  I am, after all, heterosexual.  I love women.  And most of these women are very attractive, and the rest are at least nice.  Very few are unattractive.  I like all people.  Especially women.
  In the early days of my career here, I got along swimmingly with everyone, except this one dude, actually, who couldn’t get along with anyone.  He got fired eventually, but not before causing me tremendous stress just to be around.  In the midst of his accusations and conniving, I felt I was in a very hostile workplace.
  After that, things were better.  And things have been good, until now.  On a slightly separate subject, I just recently got accused of not working, because I wasn’t sitting tied to my desk and my scanner.  In fact I was doing the work that IT couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do:  I was troubleshooting my scanner, setting up someone else’s computer, setting up someone else’s scanner, and finding an alternate place to scan since mine wasn’t up. 
  But since I wasn’t at my desk, I must be running around playing, and not working.  I know that the ones who anonymously accused me are the same ones I see frittering away the hours, occasionally working, occasionally not.
  And now what has happened?  Well, we just had our big Anniversary and Employee Recognition Dinner.  This thing is big.  First, we rented this very large and very fabulous (and very expensive) ballroom.  Band.  Open bar.  Hundreds of people, dressed like it’s the social event of the year–because it is.
  I volunteered to help.  I didn’t get to help alot–some of the things were beyond my time and ability.  But I did help with some of the setup that day, as well as that evening, I had my digital camera, and I wanted to make sure I got as many different pictures of people as I could. 
  In between meal courses, I got pictures, I sat at practically every table, I moved around, I got pictures on the dance floor –everything.  I would sit at a table, start a little spiel, usually like this:  "Hi.  Sorry I’m late."  I’d look around at the plates.  "Oh, did I miss dinner?"  While I’m doing this and chatting, I would be setting up the camera.  I take a picture of whomever was across from me, and then show it to the person next to me, to make them feel included.
  There were variations, because it was improv, but that was the basic scheme.
  I did ask a few people to show more cleavage, but it was men that I asked.  I also told a few to "Smile and say something dirty."
  Now, almost a week later, I get called on the carpet.  Lisa Simpson (yes, that’s her name), VP and head of HR, wanted to see me.  She was nice about it; she likes me.  She was embarrassed to bring it up, but some people (women) were "uncomfortable" about either my actions, or my speech, or both.  I was accused of using the camera to try and take "untoward" photos of women, I was staring at some women’s chests (complete bullshit there:  I’m an ass-man.)
  She said it was two women, who said that others said something to them, also.  So what are they, exactly, CUABP the Chicks United Against Bryan the Pervert, St Louis Chapter?  But they are anonymous, so maybe "Chicks United, Never Tell?" Against Bryan?  CUNTs Against Bryan.  That’s what it feels like.
  I mean, yes I am a pervert.  Or at least a horn dog.  Dirty old man.  I’m only a pervert if you’re under 18.  Am I wrong?  In many, many ways.
  But I try to be very subtle, plus, I had my girlfriend with me, and I was having a good time, and  no time was I trying to–
  You know what, fuck it.  I understand, of course, that no woman wants to be an object, sexual conduct of any sort is inaprropriate for teh office, we are all equal, all God’s children, blah blah blah.
  But fuck me, if you haven’t realized this, you live in the goddamn world, and the goddamn world is not a goddamn perfect place, you fucking bitches.  This was not overt, like I stalked them, or threatened their job, or made advances.  It was more like they just got a *feeling*.
  Well, you know what, I get the *feeling* that they are a bunch of stifled cunts.
  I mean, I get when it really is harassment.  Rent A Center, for instance, had sexual harassment and discrimination so blatant it was practically policy.  But this is a company party, and this is me being fun-loving and trying to promote a party atmosphere, kind of like an MC, if you will.  It just– dammit, I get so damn–Eeerrgghh!  It makes me want to find whoever the bitches are, bend them over, and fuck them in the ass.  Hard.
  Maybe the problem was, they could just read my mind?

"On behalf of all men, I apologize.  I’m sorry I find you attractive.  I’m sorry that you try to dress well and look nice, and that it actually worked, and I responded to it by noticing you in the slightest way.
"I’m sorry that I’ve had conversations with you, and thought we were the merest of acquaintances with whom I could share a personal thought or two.  I’m sorry you are so guarded, so sensitive, so wounded, that you choose to take absolutely anything and everything I say the wrong way so that it is offensive to you. 
"I’m sorry the world is an offensive place.  If I could, I would coat everything in marshmallow creme for you, so that you could live in happy oblivion forever, sticking to stuff.  But mostly I’m sorry I never got the chance to teabag you, so if you could just come over here, I want to bitch-slap you with my cock.  Thank you."

  One of the things that pisses me off about it, see, is that I can read people.  Since I’m a sociopath, it’s a skill I developed in order to blend in with normal people.  But after all my years in customer service, I can read people.  Usually in a matter of a split second, I can tell whether or not my schtick is going over. 
  And so for that reason, I would know, and not push the boundaries.  I would see a wall, and move on to the next person.  So a few people were pretending to be nice and easy-going, when in fact they were diabolical, conniving bitches.  I thought I could pick those out of a crowd as well–

  And another thing–
  Fuck it.  Lisa, the VP in HR, says I need to let it go, put it behind me.  But Lisa herself is a hot looking older chick, blond hair and long legs, and she looks good in a red dress, and that’s what she was wearing that night.  I really wanted to lift up her skirt and just–
  Geez, maybe I am I pervert.



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  1. You are a male, you probably are a pervert. 🙂
    Its Murphy\’s Law, you will offend women when you don\’t intend to and will get
    no reaction from them when you try to offend them. Go figure…
    Detroit told me you have a BETTA in your house, I hope you didn\’t eat him!

  2. I guess I am a freak cause I am hard to offend. Unless you are some sority college bitch kissing my son on his mouth when his mother doesn\’t know whose dick you sucked the night before, I am usually not offended. Wait was that wrong of me to be offended by that?

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