Month: August 2007

aftermath

After the events I described in the previous post, my officemate and I haven’t had much to say to each other. We’ve continued to greet each other with a friendly-sounding “Good morning,” but beyond that it’s been pretty quiet when no one else is around.

It occurred to me that most of our chatter before was probably instigated by me. Even when I’d tell myself, “Anne, he is trying to work. Stop talking to him.” I’d still think of something, and off I’d go, babbling away.

I thought about apologizing to him for spouting off like I did, but my boyfriend said it was probably best to let it go. Officemate has said – and from what I’ve seen of him, I believe it – that men hate to talk about things like that, so I decided it was best not to bring it up.

Yesterday, he wished me a good evening as he left, which he hasn’t done since Thursday. Maybe we’re both slowly getting over it? I hope so. I truly do.

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big shot

“You had to be a big shot, didn’t you. You had to open up your mouth. You had to be a big shot, didn’t you. All your friends were so knocked out.” – Billy Joel

Sometimes, when I think of using a certain reference for a subject line, I’ll hesitate, considering whether I might encounter a future situation where the subject would’ve been better used. But in this case? I somehow doubt there’s much danger of that happening, because I hope to never encounter someone who fits that song more than my OfficeMate.

Today, I was reminded yet again that OM is the type of person who will listen to you ramble on (and on and on), and he’ll sympathize and converse normally. However, the SECOND he has the opportunity to bring it up to someone else? You can bet your sweet bippy that he will.

And not in a casual, light way. Oh, no. From where I sit, if he isn’t genuinely mean-spirited, then he was born without that little switch that tells you when you’re about to go too far. Today, for example, after lunch he brings up something that we’d been talking about, except he turns it around so that it’s embarrassing to me. Either ignoring or completely oblivious to the fact that I’m about to start fuming, he keeps chuckling as he continues to write an email about it to the coworker he’d just started talking to.

When that coworker emailed me a question about it, I wrote back with a decidedly unfriendly response, and I copied it to my OfficeMate, thinking that he’d get the hint that he was already well past the line of humor.

OfficeMate keeps on going, so I finally had to confront him. I said that he fits right in with the third grade mentality that he’d just moments before accused our coworkers of having. I said that yes, I like to laugh, but not at the expense of other people, and I added, “You’re just . . . mean.” I wasn’t as eloquent as I’d like to have been, but I thought I spoke pretty well considering how very angry I was. Then, as so often accompanies my anger, I started to tear up. I tried to sit there and get over it, but I couldn’t, so I had to escape to the ladies’ room.

For those keeping score, that makes this the second day in a row I’ve cried at work. Yeah, I’m not having a stellar week.

In this case, I’m mostly mad at myself for forgetting how OM is. I actually wrote “Don’t Forget!” on a sticky note and stuck it to my computer. Hopefully I’ll be reminded to not say *anything* to OM that I don’t want publicized. And mocked. And laughed at.

coincidence and leprechauns

“There are two things that I don’t believe in: coincidence and leprechauns.” – Buffy Summers

Fueling the paranoia that I wrote about in the previous post, no sooner do I say that people wanting to merit mention here in my blog should try being nice to me than – surprise! Someone at work is nice to me above and beyond the call of duty.

On Friday, one of the guys came into the office and starts straightening up the place(!). Apparently the disorganization was bothering him, and I teased him about losing sleep over it.

After a bit of organizing, he says that he’s given the matter a lot of thought, and he tells his idea of a shelf to organize the reference books that OfficeMate and I share. I agree that it sounds like a good idea. Office Organizer Guy leaves but soon returns, suggesting that the guys in the shop could make a simple shelf unit to put in the middle of the table. I said that if he could get someone to make the shelf, we’d sure use it.

A bit later, OOG returns, saying that he found someone to make the shelf, and that he would take it and paint it. I was off of work for two days, but I remained impressed that OOG and the other guy would go to the trouble of doing that. Knowing that it might not come to fruition, I thought it best not to get my hopes up.

But upon returning to work? There it is. Thanks, guys. You rock!

I always feel like somebody’s reading me

I’ve discovered that, after learning that one’s blog may have been found by one’s Real Life work acquaintances, one’s thoughts tend to progress through certain stages:

– Denial. “No. No, they can’t have found my website.”
– Anger. “It’s your fault, blabbermouth OfficeMate! YOU told them about the site!”
– Delusions of Grandeur. “Maybe my blog will finally get some traffic. Maybe I’ll become some sort of local celebrity!”
– Damage Control. “I’d better post some sort of explanation for what I’ve been writing.”
– Obsess Over Everything. “What does So-and-So think of what I wrote? Is he taking it all wrong? What will I say if he asks about it? HOW CAN I EVER FACE HIM AGAIN?!”
– Return to Denial. “I checked my stats, and it doesn’t seem that they’ve found my site. *That’s* a relief.”
– Giddiness. “My secret thoughts remain secret! Woo hoo! And I’m free to write again!”
– Return to Reality. “Wait, they could’ve found the site this other way, which wouldn’t show up in my stats/referrer list.”

Apparently now I’m in the Paranoia stage, where I keep thinking that the people at work have found my blog – maybe they’ve even known about it for a while now! – and they’re competing amongst themselves to see who can get me to post things. Because lately? It seems that certain of my co-workers are doing their best to vex me. Well, sorry peeps, but there was no winner in this round. Next time may I suggest you try niceness over annoyance? Ooh! Or cash. Cash is always good. 😀

false alarm

“You know how sometimes the last sentence you said, like, echoes in your brain? And it just keeps sounding stupider? And you have to say something else just to make it stop?”

Thank you, Angela Chase of My So-Called Life, for putting into words how I’ve been feeling for a few days. Since writing the last post, I’ve been hit hard with a case of blogger’s remorse. At the time, revealing the identity of my crush seemed a necessary detail to show the full circle of weirdness of the situation I was describing. And though I knew he might read it, I decided that if he read anything else I’ve written, he’d know that it wasn’t a huge deal. I mean, I admitted that I know nothing can come from it. I know that he’s got someone, and he knows I’ve got someone. There’s just something that I like about him, and as I wrote the last entry, it was important to me that he knew it. I thought that he’d maybe be flattered and then laugh it off.

However, it wasn’t long before my imagination went wild, fearing that I’d put ideas in his head, and I pictured everything from him being conflicted to learn of my crush to him showing up at my door to talk. I figured at the very least, given the way he hasn’t stopped by the office to say hello lately, that he was feeling awkward, thinking I’m pining away for him, or something.

Just now, I thought to check my blog stats for the last week. I’m fairly sure that if he did find his way here, it would be from my “personal site.” It is *crazy* how relieved I am to see no report of any visitors clicking here from there. :relaxes after holding breath: Oh, I’m aware that people from work could still find my websites, I’m just glad to think that, for now, one certain person has not.

me and my big blog

I’m happy to report that the old, non-working refrigerator has been removed from my apartment, and a new, working one stands in its place. Given the seventeen inch gash down the side, I’m guessing it was from some scratch-and-dent collection, but as long as it works, I’m good with it.

Moving on to the tale behind my subject line, a few weeks ago my OfficeMate (OM, as I call him here for short) mentioned possibly doing a website for the side business he’s trying to start. After briefly considering whether I was sharing too much, I confided that I have had quite a few websites for quite a long while, and we chatted about that, with him asking me various HTML-related questions.

Note that I didn’t go so far as telling him what the sites specifically are. He agreed when the topic came up again a bit later that it was best he didn’t know, because he didn’t trust himself not to spill the virtual beans when he gets to talking. Since then, he’s made reference to my websites while various people have been in the office. As OM is widely known for being misleading, I’ve been able to just roll my eyes at his remarks, and people remember the rule: “When OM talks, we don’t believe him.

Until last Friday. OM again mentioned my sites – I’ve seriously started accusing him of being compulsive – and our visitor asked, in a somewhat derogatory tone, if I have a myspace page. OM is all, “Oh, she’s gone BEYOND myspace.” Our visitor looked quizzically at me, and I admitted vaguely that I have “a website.” The visitor continued to look at me, like, “Well, what is it?” I said that I wasn’t going to tell him what it was. He said confidently that he would find it.

Now, although I’m very cautious in what information I post – why do you think I avoid posting real names as I tell these tales? No, I’m not *trying* to be annoying – I know that it’s possible to find my domains if you know what to search for. I had every confidence that Website Searcher Guy would find one, so I asked that when he finds it, he not tell me. He said that he’d leave a message in the guestbook. 

WSG left the room, and I griped at my officemate for again sharing information that I told him in confidence. OM was typically unrepentant, saying that although he jokes about it, he’s really impressed with my hobby. Yeah, I don’t accept that as a valid excuse, but thanks for showing your true colors once again, OM, before I trust you with something truly important.

I considered the ramifications of WSG finding the sites. I figured that finding this blog would be too big of a coup not to share, and I imagined him telling everyone at work. I briefly entertained the thought that I might become the local dooce.

And making all of this a little more complicated? WSG also just happens to be the Inappropriate Crush Guy that I mentioned two posts ago. Perhaps my biggest fear of all in this is that WSG/ICG (wow, even the abbreviations are getting complicated) would find that post and ask me who I was crushing on. I pictured him hounding me about it, and me – as I marveled over one of the weirdest turn of events ever in my life – answering, “Would you believe that it’s you?” I don’t see how things could be anything but awkward after that.

Today, WSG/ICG came to work a bit later, but he finally did pay us a visit. I almost held my breath, waiting for him to tell what he found. Thanks to OM, the topic at hand quickly spiraled into talk of my website. WSG/ICG said that he looked but couldn’t find it, and he expressed doubt that I even have one. I sighed with relief.

Still I can’t escape the thought that perhaps he did find the sites, but he’s honoring my request and not telling me. Yes, I think he’s a decent enough guy to do that. This is why I don’t mind admitting here that he is the one I was talking about last week. I never have to know that he knows, he never has to know that I know, and all that awkwardness … remains unknown.

In any event, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my on-line presence (such as it is) a secret for long. I try to bear that in mind as I write these things. As I like to quote: “Do not be ashamed to say what you’re not ashamed to think.”

strike three

Upon returning to my apartment today, I opened the freezer door and found pools of water in my ice cube trays. And, of course, all of the frozen food I had was ruined, after I had just used a one dollar off coupon to buy two packs of veggie burgers.

I promptly called my mother to complain. I fought the urge to swear multiple times.

I headed over to the complex office and left a maintenance request. Trying to be civil yet firm, I told them that, as this is the third time in a month that the unit has been “fixed” and it is *still* not working properly, I want it replaced with one that works. “If I need to purchase my own,” I wrote, “let me know tomorrow and remove the old fridge.”

I’ll call them in the morning to be sure they found my request and to ask what their plan is. I see myself again fighting the urge to swear.