I was quietly minding my own business, clacking away on my computer at work when you came in.
“Is Rachel there?” I heard you say to the receptionist downstairs. Your voice was unmistakable.
NOOOOOOOO!!!! I thought to myself. Quick what do I do? I secretly peeped over
the glass loft balcony to make sure I was correct. Yep, it was definitely you.
As we all worked around one big table, I was surrounded by not only my coworkers but my boss. So I did the only rational thing I could think of. I slid down my chair and hid under the desk.
The receptionist called my phone, which I let go unanswered. My boss looked
under the table at me, as I mouthed “shhh!” then he turned to look over the
“Rachel!” my boss yelled loudly. “Someone is here to see you.”
I crawled out from under the desk and glared at my boss, who was tried desperately to squash his laughter. Composing myself, I went downstairs.
I saw our receptionist smirking as I walked over. I am NEVER living this down.
As I got closer, I tried to quell my disgust. The drinking had really gotten to you. While you and your chiseled cheekbones once used to walk the runways of Paris, you were now an acne-ridden, bloated mess. You were like a cross between the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and a slice of pizza. If I didn’t know you and saw you walking down the street, I would cross.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I said casually as you hugged me. I caught the faint whiff of eau de armpit.
“Good, good. I’m in New York for a while,” you said. We exchanged uncomfortable banter for a bit before I told you I had to go back to work.
I walked back upstairs to the loft, held head high as my coworkers stared at me.
“You boned him, didn’t you?” the boss asked. I didn’t know what was worse. Admitting to that or admitting to the fact that we casually dated.
“He used to look good,” I said, trying to maintain my dignity. Of course, no one believed me. Cue laughter from everyone in the office and a dissection of our
interaction by the receptionist.
Thank you for making my day!
Don’t Look for Me Again