Name the one thing that's ten-times worse than having a head-hunter call your office and leave a message for you with your boss.
Answer: Having a guy you met at a bar call your office and leave a message for you with your boss that sounds like it came from a headhunter.
Of course, since I'm playing this little pop-quiz, you can probably guess that that's exactly what happened this morning. About ten minutes ago, I got this lovely email from Ginny, the HR Director at my firm:
Hi Lindsay
I received a phone message for you from
Fred Name Redacted
Baltimore Chamber of Commerce
Phone RedactedHe asked that you call as soon as possible.
Instantly, I recognized Fred as the guy I met at the BJAC (Baltimore Junior Association of Commerce for those not playing along regularly -- someone probably wants to fill Fred in on that too, now that I think about it) meeting the other night. Nice guy, didn't make much of an impression, but, then again, I was having an active, interesting, conversation before he walked up and tried to insert himself with the usual new-person-small-talk. "What do you do, Where do you work," you know, those types of things.
Little did I know that the answers to those two questions would land me in my present situation. I mean, you guys know how much of an impression I can make when I'm not even trying. From what I can gather, he took the time to look up the phone number of my firm, and left a nice, succinct message with the HR Director that sounded, unfortunately, like he was looking to steal me away. Oh Goody...corporate suicide. Ironically enough, this isn't the first time that HR has gotten involved in my dating life, and while the "Chocolate Incident" and its associated nightmares is definitely a story for another time, I would have preferred the chocolate again. Yummy, and much easier to explain, by far!
After explaining myself to HR, I think they were relieved. I, of course, am mortified, and these guys don't tend to forget things. They're still asking if I'm still dating the guy (my neighbor) from our Calypso Cruise two years ago. Clearly, I'm not, but then again, I never was in the first place. Our Winter Formal is next weekend, so I'm looking forward to a night full of good-natured ribbing about Ginny being my "social director."
Silver Lining: THANK GOD the message wasn't something like "I'm looking for the hottie with the nice ass that I met out drinking on Tuesday." Because, seriously, while I work hard for my ass, I like my ass employed at a job I actually work harder at. Somehow, I'm thinking that implying that I
spend my Tuesdays bellied-up to a bar isn't going to go over too well when I've sick all week with strep-throat.
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