Flashback Friday!
After the recent dramatic (and lengthy) series of Flashbacks around here, I've decided to lighten things up a bit. A few memories of a former co-worker that definitely fall into the Flashback Friday! category.
Hi Ho, Silver, and all that stuff...
The mental calculations required to recall how long ago I worked with Trudy aren't algebraic, but they are an exercise. I've been at my current job five years, the one before that four years and I worked with her kind of mid-way through my six year stint with the employer prior to that one. So what's that? About a dozen. That's probably about right.
Trudy was a piece of work. I'm sure you've heard that description before, but I can honestly say I've never met anyone like her, either before or after. Sure, there have been a couple that have exhibited similar qualities, but still, they weren't in her class. That's probably okay, too. One 'Trudy' in your lifetime has to be the limit. If not, it should be.
Twelve years ago, give or take, Trudy was hired to be a receptionist at a construction company where I worked. Trudy was friendly and attractive, but I don't want to give you the impression that I had an issue with Trudy for those reasons.
To give you an idea what I'm talking about, Trudy wore these shoes to work on her first day at the office.
These shoes and a very, very short, very, very tight, black leather skirt. I'm pretty sure that was the only kind of skirt she owned. At least, it's the only kind I ever saw her wear.
Now, Trudy couldn't type. She had never answered phones. The tricky alphabetical filing system was well beyond her abilities. However, my fiftyish single male boss, felt she was the right fit for the job.
It was hard not to like Trudy. She was so young and naive about the wide world that I kind of looked at her like a kid sister. A kid sister who'd been in far too many GIRLS GONE WILD videos, but a kid sister nonetheless.
Trudy had a boyfriend, but every guy in my office, be he married or otherwise, lusted after her. We women thought it was hysterical, as she clearly had no interest in any of them. But the guys would hover around the kitchen, drooling into their coffee mugs, and say "Did you see what Trudy's wearing today?"
There are two rather short stories about Trudy that I wanted to share. The first is a conversation she and I had not long after she started.
She came to me to ask a question about dress code. I'd (foolishly) presumed, when she broached the subject with me, that she'd noticed the inappropriate attention she had been receiving and wanted some advice. However, what she wanted to know was whether or not she had to wear a brassiere to work if she wore a see-thru blouse.
Swear it.
No exaggeration.
I sat there kinda dumbfounded for a second. Thinking that she wasn't really asking me about wearing a see-thru blouse to the office. When my brain kickstarted itself, I told her that some of the guys in the office may not be able to handle a see-thru blouse in the office.
Clearly, the only reason I'm alive to tell this anecdote is that my former male coworkers do not know that I thwarted Woody In Your Pants Friday at my office.
Several weeks after she and I had gone over the finer points of appropriate office attire (which, btw, did only limited good as the shoes and short skirts remained staples of her work wardrobe), young Trudy was late to work. It was a Monday morning and she called and said she'd been injured and she'd be in later that morning.
When she finally arrived, she appeared to be walking and talking as normal...for her anyway...and despite the short skirt and short sleeved top, I couldn't see any cuts or bruises. Foolishly, I asked her what had happened.
Without missing a beat and with absoLUTEly no warning, she hiked up her skirt to reveal a dogbite.
On her very bare right asscheek.
She wasn't being snotty about it. She was very matter of fact, going on to tell me the tale of how her dog had been playing around with her boyfriend and things had gotten out of hand. She was getting dressed for work and one thing led to another and the damned thing had bit her.
Right on the ass.
Can you believe it?
Now I'm really NOT a prude. I assure you. But, I can honestly say that I've never had another woman I work with show me her ass at work. Not one time in over twenty years.
And because she didn't think it was any big deal, she continued to share her story (complete with visual aids) to everyone in the office. Much to the delight of quite a few construction guys, I can attest.
One of our estimators, "Al", had been out when Trudy got to work that infamous morning and Steve (another estimator), without even giving Al a clue, took him to Trudy's office and said, "Trudy, tell Al what happened to you this morning." To which, she stood, and without a word, hiked her skirt and bent over her desk. Al clutched his chest and drool was flowing out of both sides of his mouth. I don't think he had been that close to naked female ass since his divorce three years earlier. I thought he was either going to mount her or have a heart attack right there.
Trudy continued to delight and entertain the office staff for a few more months, until she got pregnant. She, then, quit, got married, and became merely a legend to those of us who had worked with her.
There's a Flashback with a little flash(ed) back(side)!
Now, just so you'll all know, not that it will mean much to most of you, I've been "labeling" my Flashback Friday! posts, so that anyone so inclined can go back through them with a little more ease. (Believe it or not, this one is the 41st Flashback Friday! That's how rambly I am!)
In other news, this weekend, my girls leave to spend a week with their Dad. (We'll miss them bunches!) Highlander and I have no plans (mostly because we're trying to pay off some bills and are BROKE), but will likely be working on wedding nonsense. Later today, my Mom and my sister are coming over to go with me to check on a few wedding things. Then, a couple friends are coming over on Sunday afternoon to help me with some preliminary planning stuff which should be fun!!
Consequently, it would help if you guys would get out this weekend and do something fun. It's hard to live vicariously through you guys when you aren't doing anything either. Thanks!
Hi Ho, Silver, and all that stuff...
The mental calculations required to recall how long ago I worked with Trudy aren't algebraic, but they are an exercise. I've been at my current job five years, the one before that four years and I worked with her kind of mid-way through my six year stint with the employer prior to that one. So what's that? About a dozen. That's probably about right.
Trudy was a piece of work. I'm sure you've heard that description before, but I can honestly say I've never met anyone like her, either before or after. Sure, there have been a couple that have exhibited similar qualities, but still, they weren't in her class. That's probably okay, too. One 'Trudy' in your lifetime has to be the limit. If not, it should be.
Twelve years ago, give or take, Trudy was hired to be a receptionist at a construction company where I worked. Trudy was friendly and attractive, but I don't want to give you the impression that I had an issue with Trudy for those reasons.
To give you an idea what I'm talking about, Trudy wore these shoes to work on her first day at the office.
These shoes and a very, very short, very, very tight, black leather skirt. I'm pretty sure that was the only kind of skirt she owned. At least, it's the only kind I ever saw her wear.
Now, Trudy couldn't type. She had never answered phones. The tricky alphabetical filing system was well beyond her abilities. However, my fiftyish single male boss, felt she was the right fit for the job.
It was hard not to like Trudy. She was so young and naive about the wide world that I kind of looked at her like a kid sister. A kid sister who'd been in far too many GIRLS GONE WILD videos, but a kid sister nonetheless.
Trudy had a boyfriend, but every guy in my office, be he married or otherwise, lusted after her. We women thought it was hysterical, as she clearly had no interest in any of them. But the guys would hover around the kitchen, drooling into their coffee mugs, and say "Did you see what Trudy's wearing today?"
There are two rather short stories about Trudy that I wanted to share. The first is a conversation she and I had not long after she started.
She came to me to ask a question about dress code. I'd (foolishly) presumed, when she broached the subject with me, that she'd noticed the inappropriate attention she had been receiving and wanted some advice. However, what she wanted to know was whether or not she had to wear a brassiere to work if she wore a see-thru blouse.
Swear it.
No exaggeration.
I sat there kinda dumbfounded for a second. Thinking that she wasn't really asking me about wearing a see-thru blouse to the office. When my brain kickstarted itself, I told her that some of the guys in the office may not be able to handle a see-thru blouse in the office.
Clearly, the only reason I'm alive to tell this anecdote is that my former male coworkers do not know that I thwarted Woody In Your Pants Friday at my office.
Several weeks after she and I had gone over the finer points of appropriate office attire (which, btw, did only limited good as the shoes and short skirts remained staples of her work wardrobe), young Trudy was late to work. It was a Monday morning and she called and said she'd been injured and she'd be in later that morning.
When she finally arrived, she appeared to be walking and talking as normal...for her anyway...and despite the short skirt and short sleeved top, I couldn't see any cuts or bruises. Foolishly, I asked her what had happened.
Without missing a beat and with absoLUTEly no warning, she hiked up her skirt to reveal a dogbite.
On her very bare right asscheek.
She wasn't being snotty about it. She was very matter of fact, going on to tell me the tale of how her dog had been playing around with her boyfriend and things had gotten out of hand. She was getting dressed for work and one thing led to another and the damned thing had bit her.
Right on the ass.
Can you believe it?
Now I'm really NOT a prude. I assure you. But, I can honestly say that I've never had another woman I work with show me her ass at work. Not one time in over twenty years.
And because she didn't think it was any big deal, she continued to share her story (complete with visual aids) to everyone in the office. Much to the delight of quite a few construction guys, I can attest.
One of our estimators, "Al", had been out when Trudy got to work that infamous morning and Steve (another estimator), without even giving Al a clue, took him to Trudy's office and said, "Trudy, tell Al what happened to you this morning." To which, she stood, and without a word, hiked her skirt and bent over her desk. Al clutched his chest and drool was flowing out of both sides of his mouth. I don't think he had been that close to naked female ass since his divorce three years earlier. I thought he was either going to mount her or have a heart attack right there.
Trudy continued to delight and entertain the office staff for a few more months, until she got pregnant. She, then, quit, got married, and became merely a legend to those of us who had worked with her.
There's a Flashback with a little flash(ed) back(side)!
Now, just so you'll all know, not that it will mean much to most of you, I've been "labeling" my Flashback Friday! posts, so that anyone so inclined can go back through them with a little more ease. (Believe it or not, this one is the 41st Flashback Friday! That's how rambly I am!)
In other news, this weekend, my girls leave to spend a week with their Dad. (We'll miss them bunches!) Highlander and I have no plans (mostly because we're trying to pay off some bills and are BROKE), but will likely be working on wedding nonsense. Later today, my Mom and my sister are coming over to go with me to check on a few wedding things. Then, a couple friends are coming over on Sunday afternoon to help me with some preliminary planning stuff which should be fun!!
Consequently, it would help if you guys would get out this weekend and do something fun. It's hard to live vicariously through you guys when you aren't doing anything either. Thanks!
Labels: Flashback Friday
posted by SuperWife | 5:34 AM
2 Comments:
Heh. Good stuff. I've enjoyed the heroic birth drama for the past three weeks, but it's nice to return to the funny once in a while,too.
As I know I've mentioned to you, at one of my many, many jobs, I worked with a girl who very much reminds me of "Trudy", in that she was quite physically attractive and, well, she dressed for success... with the men she worked with, if no one else.
When she first showed up at the job, as a temp (same as I was) and she had not yet clarified which of the relatively few males there were important and which weren't, she flirted outrageously with me. Once a few days had gone by and she realized I was just another spear carrier, and the only male in the place with any authority was a supervisor named Jim, she forgot I existed entirely. One night, though, I did walk into Jim's office without knocking as I had a question about a survey we were working, and caught Whatshername on Jim's lap... or, rather, I caught her in mid air, leaping like a dolphin off Jim's lap, where she had obviously been getting quite snuggly immediately prior to me pushing the not quite closed door open from the other side.
As she was married and Jim was engaged, this struck me as probably being inappropriate behavior, but, y'know, I was just there to fill the focus groups. Not my biz.
She (I cannot remember her name for the life of me) didn't last much longer than that, most likely because that particular marketing business was owned by a woman, and that woman made all the final decisions as to which temps got hired permanently and which didn't, and I very much doubt this particular chick had evolved any strategies for marketing herself to members of her own gender.
But, oh baby... I'm sure she'd have been hired in a heartbeat if the owner of the shop had been male.
Heh, apparently the 'glass ceiling' is for pressing one's 'soapy headlights' against whilst gyrating to music.
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