So then...

About Me

Welcome to my blog. My pen name is Eva James. I'm an aspiring writer paying the bills working as a legal secretary. Relentlessly bullied by my former boss, I looked for another job but the recession hit. Feeling trapped, I recorded everything in this blog, which serves as a revealing insight into workplace bullying. WEEK 1 starts the story and, as the weeks progress, you'll note what starts as banter soon spirals out of control. Sadly, it's all true. Whilst along the way I've found alternative employment, my passion for blogging about workplace bullying remains. Trevor Griffiths, legendary theatre, TV and film writer said at the outset, "I like the writing a lot: smart, cool, placed. If you were prepared/able to take your prick of a boss on, you'd marmelise him."

Saturday, 6 March 2010

WEEK 42 Just Dance

Whilst HOWARD’S impressions of me pleasuring myself have recently been replaced with vibrator jokes, the lesbian accusations continue. So I signed up to match.com again determined to find Mr Right and set the record straight.

I figured it was one way to take my mind off things and might lead to an hour or two sat in front of a man who’d say nice things. I had my first date yesterday evening. His name was Liam, his photos looked nice and genuine. I admit I wanted everyone in work to know.

That’s right, I wanted to shout, I’m a normal human being who’s going on a date with a man!

I skipped into work yesterday a different person; eyes sparkling; overly made up; change of clothes in one hand. I daydreamed how it might go. I was scared and excited and hopeful.

And HOWARD tore me to shreds.

He started innocently enough, asking if Liam drove. I told him I thought so.

“That’s good,” he said. “Because think how many people you’d make happy if both you freaks died in a car accident.”

He ran through scenarios where the guy was blind or disabled. Flicking through The Law Gazette, he told the PM it wouldn’t surprise him if the guy took one look at me and then bought me a vibrator as a parting gift. HOWARD reminded me that I was once massive and he didn’t know about Liam but, personally, he would never go out with someone who had the potential to be a porker. He made himself laugh, thinking about what Liam might wear and where he might work. When I asked him why he had to be so spiteful he said he was merely a “conveyor of truth.”

I turned up my audiotape and tried to drown him out.

Quarter past twelve HOWARD suddenly became conscious of the fact that he’d wasted an entire morning making cruel jokes at my expense.

“Just so I don’t feel guilty later,” he told the PM, “I’m doing this for Eva’s own good.”

I hung my head and burst into tears. I couldn’t help myself. I ran to the toilet and sobbed my heart out. I came out embarrassed, calming down and wiping away smudgy mascara tracks. I stood outside the toilet door collecting myself and walked around the corner expecting to see HOWARD looking guilty. To my shock I witnessed HOWARD performing a small dance of triumph and amusement for the PM. She turned away, disgusted.

I’ve never known anger like it. I saw red. I had to stop myself doing something stupid. I went outside for some air, wanting to hit something, a brick wall – anything. I walked until the wind cooled my temper.

Don’t get mad, I told myself.

I returned to an e-mail from HOWARD saying he was joking and hadn’t meant to cause offence.

He wasn’t aware, of course, I’d seen him dancing.

I thought about cancelling my date last night with Liam. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind, but it didn’t seem fair. I forced myself to go. He was nice, but not for me. I had a couple of drinks, made small talk and planned my exit strategy.

Walking home, I daydreamed about a more important exit strategy.

HOWARD reads The Law Gazette from cover to cover. I smiled, imagining what would happen if the The Law Gazette ran a feature about Bullied by the Boss. I imagined watching HOWARD’S face as the truth dawns. I played with ideas for a cool or clever remark, but I know the reality is, if he guessed it was me (which is not a given) I’d probably leave without a word. We must have come close to saying and writing everything there is to say.

But when the time comes I have earned the right to do my own dance of triumph and amusement all the way home.

Eva x

1 comment:

Fiona WordsBird said...

He won't GUESS it's you. But he might ASK if it's you, just to see what you'll say. (He wouldn't dream you had the balls to write it!)

So, if he does ASK, look at the PM first, then look Howards straight in the eye, and say: 'If it really were me, YOU would be in deep trouble.'

Then get on with whatever you were doing. With an enigmatic smile.

He'll think you are bluffing. Then he'll hope you are bluffing. Then hopefully he might need his trousers laundering...

;o)

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