Double Standard

Packed up the boss. Put his stuff in a box, wrapped up his dead animals in bubble-wrap, organized the "pile-o-crap" drawer and moved his office, furniture, boxes, dry erase boards a hundred miles away in less that an hour. All while he talked on the phone and complained that he wasn't suppose to be there.

"I'm sure gonna miss you!"

"Yeah, have fun in ********. I'll send your assistant my files separately."

"You've been really great. I don't know what I'll do without you" He put his arms out in either a good impression of Frankenstein or a gesture of familiarity. Don't corporate "whores" shake hands? Isn't there some unspoken rule about hugging assistants thirty years younger than you?

Nope...I got hugged.

"I'll think about you, take care of yourself. This is so sad."

"Yeah...okay." Am I gonna have to pat your back too?

And then it was over. Thank god. Until eight hours later when he called on the weekend. Something about a dog.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'll take care of it."

"Oh thanks sweetie!!!"

Sweetie? I've worked for this man for a year. Never has he called me sweetie. Now he's half-way to the new office, carrying with him a semi-felt hug of mine and he thinks it's okay to call me sweetie. It is not. It is most certainly not. I am not sweet. I am not cute and adorable. I am not made of honey. I'm made of starch, and white-out. That's all.

Today I called the other office and talked with my cube-buddy. My favorite guy. The guy who I picked on mercilessly waiting for him to cry uncle.

He never did. This is why he is my favorite guy.

We went a few rounds. I almost got teary-eyed thinking how far away he was and how unemployed I'm about to be.

"So pretty lady, what do you need from me?"

He thinks I'm pretty...

"Aw sweetie. I miss you. Wish you were here keeping me in line."

Hehe...he called me sweetie...I'm blushing.

"You're lucky I'm not."

"Oh I have no doubt. But I need someone to cut me down a few notches. I miss you honey."

He thinks I'm honey too.

To him I'm nice. In the only way I know how...I tease, torment and torture. And he loves me for it.

Which is why he can call me sweetie and boss can't.

This all makes perfect, sober, sense.