Buy your own stupid shirts

I certainly don’t condone lying, but the first letter writer in today’s Dear Margo is far more of a victim than a perpetrator. She became friendly with someone “higher up the chain” at her self-described “dream job,” was invited to his birthday party but had to miss it due to illness, and promised to buy him a desired shirt during her family’s trip to Mexico as a belated birthday present. She ended up not visiting that part of Mexico, but the guy still wants his shirt (actually, two of them, and has helpfully provided her with a link where she can buy them)! Worse still, she’s realized that she can’t afford even one of the shirts and admitted that to him. Apparently, he won’t take no for an answer, though. What was she to do but lie and say the shirts were delayed?

It’s too bad that the LW has become trapped in a lie that will shortly be exposed when the shirts never show, but really, maintaining that “polite spine,” as they call it on Etiquette Hell, is particularly hard to maintain in a work situation. The bulk of the guilt truly falls upon her senior coworker, whose greed has put combined social and work pressure to bear on the poor LW. Friends don’t demand presents from other people; frankly, adults don’t demand presents from other people–if you want something that badly, go buy it for yourself. And an executive at an office especially shouldn’t be demanding expensive presents (if he looked at the website, he knows darn well what those shirts cost) from a lower-level employee.

This is a classic example of Toilet Paper Fairy Belief: In addition to forgetting how inappropriate it is for him to demand a present from someone who’s got to keep the higher-ups happy to stay in her job, he’s somehow forgotten about the salary disparity between himself and his junior; in this case, that junior is a full-time student working part time. It’s the same kind of thoughtlessness that leads the boss, who can easily afford to go out to eat every day, to steal his secretary’s lunch from the fridge. He’s completely unaware that the salary he pays her makes her unable to replace that lunch, and perhaps does not even care.

In this case, the LW’s family is apparently well-off enough to invite her to Mexico and presumably pay her way, but it’s incredibly presumptuous of her “work pal” to assume that they’re supporting her financially on a day-to-day basis, if he’s even thinking that deeply about the matter.

Unfortunately, unraveling this situation may have serious negative effects on the LW’s future at her “dream job.” Many times, it’s simply best to keep one’s social and professional lives as separate as possible.

 

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Do as I say, not as I do

As I mentioned yesterday, invasions into other people’s personal space at the office are very, very rude. That especially includes stinky food. For example, I brought sardines for lunch today. They’re very nice sardines from France, with a mustard sauce and everything, but still…sardines. I decided it was an acceptable risk as I’m in a fairly open office and sit fairly far away from others, and my breath is actually directed toward the window. I also ate two Altoids afterward.

But generally, particularly in tight quarters, don’t do this. I know that bringing kimchi into a shared office was perceived as a greater offense than almost setting the office on fire (I was testing science experiments for kids and learned that alligator clips+steel wool+batteries=fire. Glad that someone learned something.). And even an open-plan office was not a sufficiently wide space to make my choice of Thai squid a popular one among my coworkers.

So make your lunch choices carefully. You would think this would be obvious…but I’ve heard too many stories to know that it’s not.

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Too bad your personal bubble isn’t visible or tangible.

Then you could shield yourself from unwanted hugging and kissing as well as unwanted overexposure to highly scented body products. I don’t think human beings were meant to cram themselves into overcrowded cube farms; the least we can do is try not invade what little personal space others have left with our skin, our hygiene items, and our loud crunching noises.

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And in the Captain Obvious category…

…we have two threads on AskMetaFilter.

  1. If you run a small business and one of your employees is poaching your clients, you fire him. End of Story, except for the part where you get an employment lawyer to 1) Sue the guy and/or 2) Tighten up your business guidelines so this doesn’t happen again.

  2. Regardless of where you work, but especially if you work at a daycare center, do not go to work drunk. If you’re dumb enough to show up to work drunk, do not tell your coworkers that you are drunk. If you’re not actually drunk but perhaps slightly hung over, do not tell your coworkers that you are drunk. Stuff like that has a tendency not to stay confidential, particularly when adorable small children’s safety is at stake. OTOH, if you overhear a coworker saying she’s drunk, as did the poster in question, you’ve got a tougher problem to handle, especially if she’s not acting drunk. However, if she did her job competently that day, reporting her after the fact is not likely to lead to anything good, either for the person reported or the reporter. Better to just keep an eye on her in future and watch out for a repeat–at that point, do something that day, rather than wait until later to post on a message board.

 

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Life is not a movie.

If we were in the 9 to 5 or The Last Seduction universe, blackmail really would get you that promotion you wanted, with either comic or darkly satiric results, depending on which movie universe you were in. But, sorry, Dear Prudence Letter Writer (the one below the video about the much-tattooed lady), despite your oh-so-clever Manic Pixie Dream Girl reference, life is not a movie, unless you mean the really bleak kind where your plot to blackmail the boss and the evil wench who stole your job ends up with you getting fired and unable to collect unemployment, while the corrupt couple continues to do unthinkable things on the conference room table.

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