Revenge is a dish best eaten cold. I've heard that saying and was never quite sure what it meant. Probably if you wait until the bastards aren't expecting it and
then
fuck 'em until they come, you'll relish it all the more. Sometimes you just can't wait. This happened when I was nineteen and you can't make this stuff up.
I was still living at home with my mom and my brother who is nine months younger than me. (About the father – wham bam, wham bam, - scram. Enough said?) I got my first real job at Apple as a secretary –who types three words a minute. When the office manager said he gave me the job because he thought I was perkier than the other applicants, I knew he meant that he thought I have nicer tits than the other applicants. My feminist tendencies notwithstanding, I accepted.
I didn't mind the way he looked me over because I was doing the same. We both liked what we saw. His name was Rafael and he waited a respectable length of time before asking me out: six hours. Of course during those six hours he passed my desk about a hundred times and smiled a hundred and one. I wasn't filing a harassment suit because guess who was smiling back?
I'm assigned to the last of six desks. Four of the girls seem welcoming enough; one is looking at my tits and sneering. (I knew I should have worn a looser sweater but then…) I find out her name is Greta and she's the designated office PITA. (Pain in the ass) I try to be friendly by telling her what an attractive mole that is on her nose or some such thing but she's having none of it.
Greta's the 'leader of the pack' so she gives me the orientation tour and lays down the rules: you know, "do not copy your ass on the Xerox machine" etc. I play with the pencils and paper clips until five. It's been a rewarding and fulfilling day.
Two things:
1– The company has a strict policy against fraternization i.e. No intra-office screwing around. Raff said not to worry, others had done it, it's just coffee, we'd be discrete etc. I figured that the worst would be that I could lose my six hours seniority. 2– The stuff I'm going to tell you shouldn't be construed as typical Emma. (Although if you read what I wrote about my brother and me in "Em & M" you might disagree) Remember, this was my promiscuous period.