There's a man in a tux wandering around my reception area (yes, my, if I'm sitting here for the day, I own it). He's been sitting and standing and just kind of hanging out for at least half an hour.
Mildly attractive and deliciously tall, I wondered if this was perhaps the fates sending me a sign. What if this man was my knight in shining armor?! He was going to whisk me away in his Aston Martin to his manse in the Hamptons and we were gonna live happily ever after...
Knowing that this might be my only shot to not die alone I find some courage in my almost empty bag of chex mix to talk to him. I took a minute to prepare what I was going to say so the risk of sounding like a total asshole would be significantly lowered.
"So, do you always come to work dressed like that?" (Okay, its not very clever, but when delivered with the appropriate amount of flirt, I think is not bad)
"I...uh...they...I was told because they don't know whats going on...I don't know."
...
He sits back down and I put my head in my hands cursing the gods for taunting me like that. He would have zero grasp on the English language...
1 comment:
Who says they need to talk?
Post a Comment