The time I inappropriately slapped my boss
Two points of note:
.1. I was both the only female, and the youngest manager within the team.
.2. When I don’t want to forget something, I scribble it on the inside of my palm.
Seated at our weekly management meeting, I was to the immediate left of the Head Honcho, M, and in a room of 11 men.
M sat down next to me and we dove right into the Agenda. Half way through the meeting, M started talking about how he was very pleased with the implementation team. As soon as he’d finished this, he turned and faced me with his right palm up and toward me.
Because I have never pretended to be anything but a complete dork, I reacted in kind. I somehow slipped under the mis-impression that M was so excited by the implementation team, that he was requesting from me – who is completely unrelated to the implementation team – a high five. And so.
In the middle of the manager’s meeting, and without a second’s hesitation, I smiled and high-fived the Head Honcho, finishing with a little giggle.
He then said something which I missed because – like I just wrote - I was giggling and looking down at my notes. I was obviously too busy to pay proper attention.
When I looked up, he had his other hand up, palm toward me.
Again, and without taking a moment to think about my actions, I thought to myself: I guess I didn’t slap him hard enough. In an effort to remedy this, I pushed my chair back a little bit so I could put more force into my high-five.
It was so exciting that my Head Honcho was such a cool guy.
Until I missed his hand because he pulled it away and said – much in the same tone you would use when speaking to a retard**: No, Maha. I just want to know what’s written on your palm!
For at least one month after that, all of the managers would high-five me as I walked past them in the halls. Worse still, they clandestinely agreed to sign off all of their emails with:
“…blablabla…
Thanks Maha!
*high five*,
John”
(**This is not to be taken as a slur, for they are much more intelligent than yours truly.)
.1. I was both the only female, and the youngest manager within the team.
.2. When I don’t want to forget something, I scribble it on the inside of my palm.
Seated at our weekly management meeting, I was to the immediate left of the Head Honcho, M, and in a room of 11 men.
M sat down next to me and we dove right into the Agenda. Half way through the meeting, M started talking about how he was very pleased with the implementation team. As soon as he’d finished this, he turned and faced me with his right palm up and toward me.
Because I have never pretended to be anything but a complete dork, I reacted in kind. I somehow slipped under the mis-impression that M was so excited by the implementation team, that he was requesting from me – who is completely unrelated to the implementation team – a high five. And so.
In the middle of the manager’s meeting, and without a second’s hesitation, I smiled and high-fived the Head Honcho, finishing with a little giggle.
He then said something which I missed because – like I just wrote - I was giggling and looking down at my notes. I was obviously too busy to pay proper attention.
When I looked up, he had his other hand up, palm toward me.
Again, and without taking a moment to think about my actions, I thought to myself: I guess I didn’t slap him hard enough. In an effort to remedy this, I pushed my chair back a little bit so I could put more force into my high-five.
It was so exciting that my Head Honcho was such a cool guy.
Until I missed his hand because he pulled it away and said – much in the same tone you would use when speaking to a retard**: No, Maha. I just want to know what’s written on your palm!
For at least one month after that, all of the managers would high-five me as I walked past them in the halls. Worse still, they clandestinely agreed to sign off all of their emails with:
“…blablabla…
Thanks Maha!
*high five*,
John”
(**This is not to be taken as a slur, for they are much more intelligent than yours truly.)
Labels: Dork



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