I met my new boss today. I had no idea what to expect, except that he had a non anglo name. I later learnt that he is of Lebanese heritage. I thought Greek. Both countries have a strong connection to each other I think, so an understandable error on my part.
His shaved head was compensated for by a day or so's grey facial growth. He looked physically trim enough. He had, for want of a better description, that Aussie/wog accent that seems to take more than one generation to breed out. I rather like it. If it comes with a slight speech impediment, even better.
Yeah, seemed ok bloke. I wait for about six months before judging a new boss. Just because they can talk the talk, I like to see them walk the walk too and I take seriously but critically what other workmates say about them in the interim.
And then there was his underling, a person in charge of another area.
He was similar to the boss, but just knock off a decade, a bit slimmer and dreamy looks. He was also of the same extraction as my new boss by his accent, and his was a little nicer, but still very much there.
How does it go? Girls get wet, guys drip? I did neither. I just dreamt of him talking in his gorgeous accent into my ear. I alternated between him throwing me over something and having his wicked way, or me throwing him over something and me having my wicked way. I cared little. In whatever way, I wanted him and to possess him in some way. To envelope him in my arms, or he me. I am your Cinderella and it is not yet midnight. We'll make babies and I will love them to death because they will be just like you. If you feel the need to smack me around a bit to keep me in line, I will forgive you. STOP RIGHT THERE. I AM GOING TO FAR.
Ah well, you gotta do something with your head to pass the time during an otherwise particularly boring day at work.