A really HOT guy came to the front desk this morning. No, he was an intimidatingly gorgeous half Latino, half Choctaw sculpture of a man. After he left, I lifted my jaw off the floor and turned to my co-worker.
“I know him. He’s single. He works at Steamworks,” she said.
Immediately we did what any virtuous employees with access to information would do: We looked up all the details we could find on him, including his age, education and parents’ profession. BAD I know, but I don’t think I actually violated any FERPA guidelines by doing it.
My romantic history: Sushi Boy; Scared him off. Tree Boy; have yet to “set up” the accidental meeting. Major Hotness Man; may be reduced to stalking staking him out at the local brew pub. Am I totally dysfunctional about men?
On another note. I won a self-help book at the annual Employee Appreciation Lunch. The title: “Where to draw the line.” Hmm. I think the universe is telling me something.