As many of you know, the captive audience of conference attendees is catnip to the grim killjoys in the Human-Resources department; last Tuesday (June 3rd), they manage to elbow in a one-hour presentation between the parade of municipal bond traders and equity specialists that spoke to us.
The topic du jour was sexual harassment; we were briefed by the HR presenter on the myriad ways an employee could be terminated for various 'offensive' or 'harassing' actions, offering anecdotes of anonymized former staff as case-studies.
Scary stuff, this P.C. world we live in.
To its credit, my company has a sensible policy on interoffice romance, going as far as explicitly stating that a single request for a date can NOT be considered sexual harassment (though repeated requests for a date after being turned down would be).
After itemizing all the ways we could lose our jobs, our presenter asked a cowed audience if there were any questions. Now, which lone idiot in the entire room of two hundred raises his hand?
Oh, that would be me.
"Yes, you in the back,"
"So, uhm ... I'm going to only ask this once, but, would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"
Smooth one, Chang.
After a split-second pause, the entire auditorium erupts in laughter, and it was with great relief I noted the HR woman was chuckling.
That's when I notice her ring.
For those of you who are following in the home game, this is the second time in as many weeks that I hit on a married woman.
Poor impulse control, indeed.
So tune in next week for the next exciting episode of Masochistic Futility: The Pjammer Story, where I will report the progress I am making on building my perpetual-motion machine ...
PS: Though I am still employed as of this post, I am sure that even as we speak, my Personnel file is being annotated with all manner of derogatory comments:
"Not a team player"
"Unfit for management"
"Potential legal liability"
Ah well. I may have to delete/friendslock this entry in a few days, but in the meantime, you, too, can be entertained at my expense.