Well, I haven’t written much lately. No excuse, really. Just haven’t had much to say…or at least haven’t felt like saying anything.
I spent five of the last seven days in San Francisco, as my company produced our largest convention of the year. I almost sorta got to meet Jay Leno, who was the day one “keynote speaker,” listed in the convention program as “Inspirational Speaker.” He simply did about 35 minutes of standup (and pretty damn funny, too!), and then about 5 minutes of “inspirational” speak, telling the audience that he loves them and what they do for America. Then he was off the stage, down the stairs and, WOOSH! out to his limo and gone! HiJaybyeJay! (passing breeze and loose papers blown erratically in the air). I took photos of him, as part of my job. I was within 10 feet of him for about 5 minutes. I might have even gotten some of his spit on me from his fevered banter. On Sunday Bob Woodruff, the ABC News anchor who got blown up in Iraq, spoke, along with his wife. Monday’s keynote was Tom Brokaw. I didn’t get to meet any of them, though I did speak to Woodruff, asking him if he was okay with me taking flash photos of him backstage. I wasn’t sure, and didn’t want to trigger an epileptic seizure or a brain short-circuit or something. He said “Sure.” That was it. Othernat, I got bupkis.
One of my co-workers had a mild heart attack on the last day of show, about 30 minutes before the final meeting started. He’s only 55, and has had a heart attack before. He knew the symptoms, knew it was most likely a heart attack, and the goofball wouldn’t let anybody call 911. Instead he had another co-worker take him to the hospital in our rented minivan. Yay Hertz! He’s “okay,” now. The doctors put a stent (SP?) in his heart (I’m guessing here), and I heard he was allowed to go home, back to the Midwest, today. Lots of rest, and perhaps bypass surgery in his future.
I finally got an update today on what the hell happened at my apartment complex last week, as detailed in my prior post. The police department wouldn’t let me look at a police report, but an officer familiar with the case did come out and tell me “what he could” about the case. Apparently an adult couple, in an apartment in the building next to mine, were suspected of growing marijuana in their place. The cops stormed their apartment, found several potted (no pun intended) plants and a pistol. The pot was… well… there, and the pistol was off to one side, with no one near it when the cops went in. The S.W.A.T. team – or whatever they were – was there just in case there was resistance…and just to put the scare in innocent bystanders who happened to blunder into their little cat and mouse game....
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What do you do when, all of a sudden, in one quick moment, you lose respect for someone? On our last night in San Francisco two of my coworkers and I went out with a former coworker who now lives and works in San Francisco. He’s young, tall, athletic and damnably good looking. He’s also a player. One of the coworkers out with us that night is a young, very attractive woman who is engaged to be married. I had warned her about this guy when she was about to go to one of our past conventions for which this young man had been hired by us as a contractor, but she pooh-poohed it. As a necessary part of the job, they had exchanged mobile phone numbers, and after the job was over he would – and still does – call her occasionally. On this night in San Francisco we went to dinner and then he led us around to a few places he knows, and we all had plenty to drink.
We were all buzzing pretty well when we went to a bar where there was some pretty severe club music playing, and a very crowded dance floor. After a few minutes both the young ones had disappeared. My other coworker and I, a decade or two too old for the crowd in which we found ourselves, decided it was time to go. I told him I would let the others know we were throwing in the towel.
I walked onto the dance floor and found them. She had her arms in the air, arching her back while he had his arms around her waist and, crotch to crotch, was literally dry-humping her to the beat of the music. I told them we were leaving, turned and left. I couldn’t believe what I had seen. I couldn’t believe that she would do that, that she would let him do that. I’m actually heartbroken.
I tried to blame it on alcohol, but that didn’t work. We were all buzzing pretty good. I’m a lightweight when it comes to drinking, so I’m sure I was feeling it as much as – if not more than – the others, and I wasn’t dry-humping her – or anyone, or anything, for that matter. Am I jealous? Sure, I’ll admit to that…or to envy. My former coworker has been genetically blessed with everything women find appealing before they ever meet him, and he gets way more than his share of attention in that arena. She’s off-limits, yet he focused his attention on her. And she ate it up.
He later told my other, aged coworker, “nothing happened.” Well, maybe there was nothing beyond the dance floor, but THAT happened! Maybe I’ve got it all wrong, but if I’m standing there in a crowded room grinding my stuff against a beautiful woman’s stuff (not like it’s ever happened, mind you, but IF!), number one I’m thinking I’ve made a tremendous breakthrough, and number two I’m thinking this has serious potential to continue on another horizontal surface somewhere more intimate and private. And I have to believe that a woman feels the same way in that situation.
I had lost respect for him long ago for other things as well as his player’s game. But, for me, she fell from grace in that moment. I work with her almost every day, and I can’t even look her in the eye.
So… what do you do?
4 comments:
Too bad the SWAT thing wasn't more exciting... that's always the way it is with potheads, too lazy to cause a big ruckus
As far at the co-worker thing, I know I would just try and remind myself it isn't my business, it doesn't affect how she does her job, be friendly/ professional at work, try and forget it, and go on with my life. I try not to get too worked up over things that don't concern me or my welfare. (Note I said try; it doesn't always work.)
That's a tough situation to be in, Farrago, and I understand your attitude. What I might do is be professional at work, courteous and polite, and cut it off at that. She might also be sorry she did it; some women are very affected by only a little alcohol, and her inhibitions were down. I might work on forgiveness - even if it takes a while. That is, unless you see another similar situation with her - then all bets are off.
She could also be sowing wild oats for the last time before her wedding. Some girls do that, much as it isn't good to do.
I have to wholeheartedly second kenju's advice, which was right on the tip of my fingers when I (wisely) read the comments before posting one of my own.
I'm not sure what "young, female co-worker's" age bracket is, only that it's younger than yours, but remember we all do some pretty stupid stuff before we settle into the self-confidence that only comes with experience.
Also, YOU WERE IN THE CITY??? I am so FREAKING jealous! (cry) I'm homesick!
I second (Third?) kenju and scarletvirago. Let it be left in SF. Professional is cool. You're not her dad, nor her keeper, after all.
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