The Lion's Den

I was hanging out at the Black Cat on Friday with one of my co-workers, Eric, as we began to proudly carry on that tradition of co-workers everywhere: talking about the workplace. I told him about a co-worker I couldn't stand and he told me about his daily routine, which consists of reading the newspaper, going to the bathroom, chatting by JR's desk for half an hour, going back to his desk, getting water and starting the cycle through the office once again. In a good day he does about 1 1/2 hours of work.

We started talking about his boss, Charlotte, who he sits behind, in what he calls "The Lion's Den". I, poor little Christian that I am, am constantly being fed to this lion, who--and I swear this is not hyperbole or metaphor-- likes to play with me before eating me for lunch. When I give her work that needs to be done by her designers she looks at me with a quizzical eye, stares at the paper I gave her, contemplates it and then, in a mock questioning voice asks, "but where's the ms number?" "So you need what done, now?" or other various questions, knowing full well I've forgotten once again, and will stutter and run back to my desk, wondering how I could keep screwing up. You would think 5 months would be enough time to know what I'm doing.

I have come to realize that the thoughts I have in my head are not articulated as clearly as I think they are, because when she stares at me they come out all jumbled and confused. When I think I am so right I am quickly put in my place. Eric told me sometimes when he hears a question I ask, something simple, like, "Will it be able to be done by the end of the day?" He just shakes his head, waiting for the slow burn that is Charlotte's response because I've asked another stupid question.

Sometimes Charlotte is alright, she can be witheringly funny, and I'm sure her area of interests extends well beyond the office, but I get the distinct feeling she doesn't think much of me. Maybe it's the way a conversation will be going on by her desk, until I walk up with some work and they grow silent, waiting for me to speak and ruin their fun. I don't know, but until I do, I'm going to be refering to Eric as Princess Leia, and Charlotte as Jabba, because there are distinct similarities (even without a gold bikini).