Month: September 2014

Incident Thirteen: Dead Donkey Drum

Following the joy that was the Roman Holiday, we didn’t travel away together again. Mr Weirdo eventually got sick of me “holding him back” and booked one himself.

He booked a trip to Africa. I couldn’t tell you which bit. He thought it was a country rather than a continent so I never knew anything more than that. He was set to go on a safari type scheme for other tourists where they all band together and make friends over their shared travel experience.

He made no contact during the couple of weeks he was away. I didn’t even miss him as far as I remember, I was hanging out with the friends he disapproved of.

When he came home he gave me a phonecall and arranged to come over to pick me up and bring me to his (we both still lived with our parents), as he had presents for me.

He literally swaggered through the door and started bragging about his holiday in a barely concealed racist tone. He only just held back from referring to the local people he’d met as ignorant savages. My mum said to me after, “I could actually see you rolling your eyes with annoyance everytime he said anything”.

We went back to his to get my present. First he showed me a load of chocolates, watches and posh perfume he had bought all his family from the airport on the way home.

And then he goes, “Close your eyes and hold out your hands”, I’ve learned to dread this request from experience.

I felt something firm and weirdly furry. Oh jesus.

I opened my eyes and looked down. It was a small tribal drum covered in fur. I am a firm vegetarian of several decades now. I don’t buy real leather or fur anything.

“You don’t like it?” snapped Mr Weirdo, as my face didn’t really give room for interpretation, “You’re so ungrateful. It’s made of real donkey. You like animals!”

I threw it on the floor and stormed out. The tragedy is that as a cruel joke I might have at least respected it a bit. You know, buying your vegetarian girlfriend a dead donkey drum. Cruel! But genius!

Except the thing was he genuinely couldn’t see why it was a big deal. Of course I liked animals! Why wouldn’t I like a drum made of one??

So ungrateful.

I insisted I wouldn’t take it and to prevent an argument ensuing, he traded me the box of chocolates he had bought for his mum.

But she didn’t want it either. So there it sat, on his bedside table for the entire remainder of our time together.

The Dead Donkey Drum.

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Mr Northerner

There are two men that I will write about on this blog that had very notable impacts on my life. Mr Northerner is one of them.

As you will know, I quite like married men. There’s no relationship pressure, you don’t have to wash their socks, you generally get the best of them and they tend to be reasonable conversationalists.

Mr N was the perfect married man. How I met him is irrelevant, but we spent a lot of time together “in the line of duty” and things came to a point after a couple of months of our meeting when we both knew we liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. It helped that he had a northern accent and stunning blue / green eyes. Both things that I am an absolute sucker for. He was also a lot older than me and worldly wise which I still approve of.

The first time we had sex was amazing. Most men suffer from “opening night nerves” – not Mr N. The foreplay was spot on (!) and we had sex throughout the night in his hotel room. No doubt the neighbours loved it, I’m sure they enjoyed the show as much as I did…

By this point I already knew Mr N and I were going to be involved for awhile. We got jealous when we saw the other flirting with people. We often didn’t need to speak to communicate with each other in a room full of people. I used to make him baked goods as he liked sugar as much as me. He stayed round mine at least 2 nights a week as he worked away from home – his wife thought he was in accommodation with a male work colleague or something along those lines.

But it wasn’t all plain sailing – when Mr N and I rowed, did we row. People knew all about it and didn’t half hear it – the fact that no one ever actually sat us down and questioned our “relationship” was a small miracle.

So, we had a very passionate, fulfilling (on many levels) affair. It went on for about a year and a half. We were generally quite happy with each other during this time, and supported each other through some hellish situations. There are things he did for me that I never properly thanked him for and I wish I had.

However, as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. I stopped communicating with him properly because I’m prone to such things, and he put two and two together and got five – deciding I was cheating on him. Despite the fact that I hadn’t been, after accusing me of it, I promptly went off and slept with multiple people. To say things crashed and burned would be an understatement.

A few months after, I moved away from the area for a job, one of the reasons being that being so close to him in location was too difficult. I didn’t tell him I’d resigned, and when he heard it from a mutual acquaintance, the texts I got were pissed. This put further distance between us as we were as bad as each other at being stubborn – he wouldn’t tell me why it angered him so much that I hadn’t told him direct, and I wouldn’t tell him why I hadn’t told him direct. We both still liked each other but were too proud to say it. We probably both knew as well that there had been too much water under the bridge at this point – what we’d once had was shattered into a thousand pieces by harsh words and sustained periods of silence from both of us. Despite that, on the day I said goodbye to him, I nearly cried in front of him. I didn’t think he was far off it either.

I’ve never asked a married man to leave his wife for me – it’s a line I’ll never cross – but I know no one has made me think about the concept like Mr N did. I knew he loved me although I’d often throw it back at him when he said it, as it seemed pointless.

I’ve pretty much lost contact with Mr N now, although awhile ago he messaged me out of the blue to wish me happy birthday, on the day itself. It made me smile and we exchanged a pleasant few messages. I know he’s no longer with his wife, they’ve divorced and he is now seeing someone I know and I believe they are reasonably happy together, which does please me as even after the vile ending…I didn’t wish him ill.

He always used to say “why let the truth get in the way of a good story?” – maybe one day he’ll discover this blog and this true (yet good?) story will make him smile…?

Mr Manager- a workplace horror story

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Of all the times I’ve felt as though I’ve been taken advantage of, and put into a vulnerable position as a woman, Mr Manager is the worst for several reasons. He was hired at very short notice by my Mad Hatter of a boss (another story for another day). The first warning signs that he might be dodgy came across in his dopey the interview. My rather dopey colleague had asked Mr Manager which animal he’d be, and his answer was a Lion and involved some rather suspect comments about dominating women. It turned out I was right to be wary…

Within a few weeks he and the Mad Hatter (both in their mid 40s) recruited a young, generically attractive, shallow member of the team. They came out of the interview saying they’d found someone perfect for the role, and that I’d ‘love the way she dresses’. Which I didn’t at all. Quite simply she was a Tart.

The next month or so mainly consisted of Mr Manager never being at his desk, or when he was, Tart would be squatting (yes…squatting), down next to it and talking to him. He’d often turn up late or not show up at all for important meetings, armed with a load of unbelievable excuses. Here are some of my favourites:

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I mean, what the actual fuck?! All fairly transparent excuses when he came in looking hungover and smelling of stale cider. He never came into work before 11, and sometimes being near him would make me feel nauseous, as he chain smoked and sweated alcohol.

He instigated several highly inappropriate conversations with me. Talking about things which wouldn’t be appropriate in any workplace, let alone between a manager and a junior member of staff. On several occasions he’d talk about colleagues who he fancied, asking many of them on dates, regardless of whether or not they were single. His behaviour was escalating week by week. At several points he wheeled his chair round to my desk to ask me questions about whether or not I was dating someone, and asking for all the details.

There were three specific times when I thought of reporting him for inappropriate behaviour. One instance where he was sitting next to me, and touched my leg which had just been freshly tattooed, using it as a way to bring up the fact he was now dating a tattoo model (apparently), he then showed me a picture of her, in the nude.

At this point I must introduce the concept of Mrs Married, as the other two instances of inappropriate behaviour, occurred after ‘The Incident’.

I was quite good friends with Mrs Married. She was closer in age to Mr Manager than me, was married to someone quite a bit older than herself, who earned a lot of money, whom she had 3 children with. She often talked about how she was bored in her marriage, that her sex life was non-existent, and that she’d had a flirtation with someone else’s husband whilst on holiday with her own, she was trying to come up with a way to organise a meeting with Mr Flirtation when she noticed Mr Manager.

She started by telling me that she had this theory, that if a man has thick legs, it means he has a thick cock- I nearly vomited when she said this considering how repulsive Mr Manager was.

She started to strut past him whenever he was at his desk, like she was on some sort of catwalk for desperate housewives.

She started to email me asking if he was at his desk so she could time the strutting.

She soon realised that he wasn’t at his desk a lot because he was always out smoking. So she took up smoking, just to spend time with him! How fucking pathetic can you get.

The afternoon of ‘The Incident’, both Mr Manager and Mrs Married could not be found for several hours. As Mrs Married worked on another team, they grew quite worried about her as she’d left her handbag behind, and had a reputation for having emotional episodes. When we realised they were both missing together, it didn’t take long to put two and two together. But I was in denial that they’d have the audacity to do something untoward during work hours…

They both reappeared within 10 minutes of each other. I was immediately suspicious as Mrs Married was flushed a horrifically bright red. As was Mr Manager, but then he always had that alcoholic crimson tint. I took Mrs Married to one side and asked her if she was ok. She rather excitedly told me that they’d been for a drink (yes, an alcoholic one….) and that they’d snogged (what a word to use for two people of their age). This sat really uncomfortably with me. Little did I know, it was about to get worse…

The next day I was pulled to the side by an excitable Mrs Married, who showed me a text message from Mr Manager saying

“What are you doing for lunch? I’d like to eat you for lunch ;)”

At that point, once I’d swallowed down the vomit which was coming up, I asked her if she was absolutely ‘sure’ that it was just a drink and a snog. At that point she said that they’d gone to the top floor of the building where they hold weddings, at that time it was under renovation. And there, in an abandoned office she’d given him a blowjob….

Again I had to suppress vomit. Which was incredibly difficult to do as she then showed me that she’d put on stockings and suspenders just for him. She explained that they hadn’t slept together as she was on her period but now it was done they were planning to fuck that lunchtime.

That lunchtime, I went out for lunch with a friend who Mr Manager had tried to seduce by the lifts earlier that day. While we were out, I got a text from Mrs Married saying ‘he’s just texted saying that you’ve gone out so now’s our moment!’

On my return, I was again privy to all of the sordid details. They’d ‘made the beast with two backs’ as Shakespeare would put it, but this time in the private toilet in a senior member of staff’s office.

After this, there was emotional turmoil as Mr Manager then proceeded to completely cool off from Mrs Married. She got increasingly jealous of Tart, claiming that she can’t be prettier because Mr Manager had said Tart has a hairy back (how did he know…)

I decided as they weren’t continuing, I wouldn’t say anything. A few weeks went past, in which the two more inappropriate incidents occurred:

1. Mr Manager used my computer to print something, when he was ready to go to the printer, he took hold of my ID badge which was around my neck but his hand brushed against my nether-regions. I suspected he did this on purpose. I flinched and shuddered, I don’t know if he noticed.

2. Mr Manager crept up behind me while I was at the printer, lightly took hold of my hair from behind and said “If I pulled your hair would you tell your Daddy”.

I mean seriously, what the actual fuck?! That’s straight out of some weird schoolgirl porn. I was really quite shaken up by that.

The Mad Hatter returned from leave, within a few minutes of arrival, Mr Manager took him out (probably for a drink) for a long talk. On their return, they said that they needed help with an IT issue, took me into a meeting room with just the two of them.

Mr Manager sat there and accused me of being obsessed with sex.
He said that he’d been told that 90% of my conversation was about sex.
Dopey Colleague and Tart had made an allegiance against me to support this accusation.
Mrs Married had also contributed to these comments against me.

I was completely shocked, and really upset. It was blatantly an attempt to discredit me, in case I was thinking of reporting them to the Mad Hatter.

The whole situation was completely inappropriate, two middle aged men accusing a junior member of staff in her 20’s of being obsessed with sex.

And to have the complainant doing the interrogating.

I didn’t know what to do and had to leave work straight after it happened.

The next few days were awful, the allegiance against me were spreading rumours. I had no choice but to go to a step above the Mad Hatter, who investigated and found enough evidence to realise I was telling the truth. Mr Manager then resigned very suddenly.

Mrs Married then confronted me. Accusing me of having made the whole thing up. Saying she couldn’t believe that I’d ruined his life, and that she was going to be fired and ‘blacklisted’ from work, and I will have ruined her life and she has three kids…despite the fact that she had repeatedly said before that she didn’t need to work as her husband was loaded. A foolish thing to do as she was due to leave anyway, she ended up leaving a bit earlier than planned.

Gossip of the departures spread throughout the office (mainly perpetuated by the Mad Hatter himself). I was relieved that it was all over. But less than 2 weeks later, it turned out that Mr Manager had found himself another job, across the road!!!

As the Mad Hatter said: “That man has more front than Blackpool pier.”

The scars from this scorning are deep, and are not anywhere near healing, despite a year having gone past.