How Office Politics and the Sixtysomething Cameltoe Almost Ruined My Career
Despite my proclivity for landing in HR's cross-hairs (curse you, corporate gym!), I'm actually the sorta guy who likes to avoid uncomfortable situations wherever possible, and will sometimes go to ridiculous lengths to diffuse them. Once, for example, I sat watching Blazing Saddles with a few buddies of mine, and because one of them was black, I felt compelled to cough and wheeze loudly whenever the N-word was uttered. This, despite the fact that Saddles was one of my black friend's favorite movies. Just the way I am, folks.
Anyway, a couple years back we needed a proposal writer at work, and I was charged with hiring one. I interviewed about a half-dozen folks, and passed up a few college hotties to hire Dan, a guy who seemed to have his shit straight and actually had some proposal experience.
Turns out, however, that Dan was something of a psycho. Hitting relentlessly on anything with two tits and a pulse, threatening the guy in the cafeteria for burning his fries, and routinely parking his car in the vice president's spot because it was closer to the door.
Thing is, since I hired Dan, I was loathe to admit his shortcomings. Until one day, when I found myself presiding over a meeting with Dan and a few bigwigs. Before I could get things started, Dan says to everyone, "Hey, what do you tell a woman with two black eyes?" Around the table, he's greeted with blank stares and shrugged shoulders as I wait in horror for whatever he's going to say next. "Nothing," he replies. "You've already told her twice."
Panicked, outraged, and seeing the ire on the faces of everyone in attendance, I tried to break the tension by blurting out, "Hey, did you guys see the cameltoe on Irene this morning?"
Irene was the 65 year old woman who worked the supply room. But it was the only thing I could think of at that moment.
So Dan, as you could imagine, was let go. And I was on my way to becoming the guy that all the women in the office talk about. And not in a good way.
Anyway, a couple years back we needed a proposal writer at work, and I was charged with hiring one. I interviewed about a half-dozen folks, and passed up a few college hotties to hire Dan, a guy who seemed to have his shit straight and actually had some proposal experience.
Turns out, however, that Dan was something of a psycho. Hitting relentlessly on anything with two tits and a pulse, threatening the guy in the cafeteria for burning his fries, and routinely parking his car in the vice president's spot because it was closer to the door.
Thing is, since I hired Dan, I was loathe to admit his shortcomings. Until one day, when I found myself presiding over a meeting with Dan and a few bigwigs. Before I could get things started, Dan says to everyone, "Hey, what do you tell a woman with two black eyes?" Around the table, he's greeted with blank stares and shrugged shoulders as I wait in horror for whatever he's going to say next. "Nothing," he replies. "You've already told her twice."
Panicked, outraged, and seeing the ire on the faces of everyone in attendance, I tried to break the tension by blurting out, "Hey, did you guys see the cameltoe on Irene this morning?"
Irene was the 65 year old woman who worked the supply room. But it was the only thing I could think of at that moment.
So Dan, as you could imagine, was let go. And I was on my way to becoming the guy that all the women in the office talk about. And not in a good way.
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