History of Offices

When I showed up at work I knew word had gotten around. The people who never look at me were looking at me, and the people who usually do were finding reasons to turn away. That's the tell-tale you get when a rumor's spread. Or the truth. No one's coffee is that interesting.

I'd hardly set down my bag when, "Hey, is it true? Tell me it's true." Ben had walked over to me, set a cup of coffee down on my desk. "I figure you'd want to stay away from the kitchen, anywhere people were congregating, you know."

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Well." He was so surprised, the fact that I wasn't acting more strangely. Should I have called in sick? Should I be sneaking around? Should I be wearing a sandwich board with all the facts on it? Should I deny the whole thing? Should I quit altogether? "You know. I mean you know. The office isn't too sure what to think."

"What's to think?" I fucked the boss during last night's party. "Nobody got shot, Ben, nobody died."

"So it's true!" His excitement got the better of him but he quickly reigned it in. Again, as if nobody in the history of offices had ever done what people do. "Oh man. Oh man. That's incredible. I mean that's insane. Who made the first move?" I didn't want to answer that question and he could tell by my look. "OK, OK, OK." He leaned in closer to me and I knew exactly what he was going to ask. "What was Sewell like?"

I sipped my coffee-cream-lots-of-sugar and shrugged. "It was sex. It was good sex, Ben. That's all you're going to get."

"Ha!" Good thing I had picked up my mug otherwise his slap of my desk would've knocked it all over the keyboard. "It was good. I knew it. That's great, that's really great."

Nobody on the phone cared whether or not I slept with my boss. They didn't know. I was still doing my job and doing it well. But Yolanda, she usually comes around and asks what I want for lunch, even though I don't usually order anything. She didn't come around today. I'd walk by clusters of three or four people, unable to hear what they were saying, but figuring its subject was me when they saw me and went silent. They were probably wondering whether or not this meant special treatment, if that's the reason I survived the cutbacks a few months ago, how long had this been going on, how long would this continue, who did what and to whom first, all those things people like to make important. I just want to know who Sewell had told. We didn't discuss whether or not we should tell anyone because we're not children, this isn't high school, although maybe it is. But I figured neither of us would, or at least not tell anybody in the office. It isn't a big deal. But that viewpoint only seems to be held by me. And it's so much easier not to deal with these kinds of things.

I might call in sick tomorrow. I do have some things I would like to get done, and after work I'm always so tired.