A number of years ago, I had a boss: a lovely man, an intelligent person, highly educated, warm and amusing and something of a mentor, really.
He had only one flaw.
We could be discussing a calendar issue, looking over an expense report, when suddenly – out of the blue! – he would, it seems, develop an itch.
You know the itch.
How do I put this delicately?
He adjusted it.
You know the “it” to which I refer? The non-corporate “it”, the “hey-that-has-no-business-here” it?
I never knew where to look when he did that. Not that he seemed to notice. A little rummaging around in his pocket, a little scritch-scritch-scritch, and where were we? Ah, yes! The Q3 billables.
I’m sorry. What did you just say? I seem to have lost focus for a moment.
But what was I embarrassed about? I mean, for this, I dressed for work? For cryin’ out loud, people! This isn’t the warehouse! You can’t just dig around down there shamelessly and expect me to maintain eye contact!
The funny thing is that he truly was a lovely man. I have no idea if he ever realized what he was doing. He didn’t seem to.
I wonder how Ol’ Pocket Pool is doing these days?
About preferred pronouns
2 hours ago