Food For Thought: Is somebody on your mind today?

Okay, Valentine's Day is past and over with, and not too long ago I posted a blog on appreciation and recognizing those in our lives who we might otherwise take for granted. So, with that in mind, let's not forget about the ones we have in our lives who mean something to us, who have touched our hearts, or ones we have memories and a history with. The world being the way it is nowadays, it's easy to do. Remember that. And as just a little reminder, I've borrowed the poem of Charles Hanson Towne and included it in today's blog. Hope you enjoy it and it prompts you not to make the same mistake.

 

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.

And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.

And he rang mine but we were younger then,
And now we are busy, tired men.
Tired of playing a foolish game,
Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on Jim
Just to show that I'm thinking of him",
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner, yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir," "Jim died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.

The Meeting (my second short story)

Ronald. J. Morse                                                                                                    about 1000 words

Portland, Oregon 97233

971-258-5453

Ron.morse@gmail.com

The Meeting

by

Ronald Morse

      The meeting is set up for three thirty this afternoon.  It’s a little after nine a.m. now.  If I were to tell you I was a little bit nervous, I’d be lying.  I’m extremely nervous.  I don’t think I slept for more than forty-five minutes at a time last night.  You see, this meeting was agreed upon late last week, and the closer it gets to happening, the more havoc it plays on my head.  Oh, this isn’t our first meeting; there’s been plenty before.  And I’m quite certain it won’t be our last.  At least, I hope to God it isn’t. But as the hour grows closer, I become more and more of a wreck.  You want to know why?  Honestly?  This kid scares me.  Okay, let me clarify that somewhat. I’m not scared that he’s gonna beat me up or anything. No, the damage this guy can do is far worse than that. And when I say, ‘kid’, well, he is, but then again, at my age, a lot of people are.

      Let me give you a little background, and then I’ll get you up to date regarding today’s meeting. I’ve known this guy for almost nine years now. Our meetings haven’t always been under these conditions, and the circumstances in which we’ve met in the past are too numerous to go into here. But hell, I’ve got this much time into it, there’s no way to walk away now.  He wouldn’t allow it.  So, regardless of whatever other obligations I have in my life, he demands I make time for him and his problems. And I do. Like I said, I really have no choice. I could go on and on about our past (his and mine), but it makes little difference in regards to the here and now.  So, rather than bore you with old stories, I guess I better fill you in on today’s events.  Like I mentioned earlier, we’ve met under a number of different conditions, both geographic as well as emotional. Today we’re meeting in an old Victorian style home. The way its set up is there is a separate entrance for each of us.  That way there can be no problems ahead of time.  Not that there ever has been, nor do I ever expect there to be; that’s just the way it’s done nowadays.  I guess he’s a pretty busy guy, I don’t really know. I’m not privy to what goes on in his life outside of our meetings. I do know this: I’m allowed one hour of his time for today’s meet.  Exactly one hour.  He’ll arrive at exactly three-thirty and sixty minutes later, he’ll leave. Doesn’t matter what we might be in the middle of.  When the times up, it’s up.  We’ve got rules we follow as well.  No cursing. That’s a big one and it’s not condoned.  We’ve got a ‘facilitator’ that sits in with us, just to keep things ‘on track’. The facilitator’s name is Mel. Mel rarely says anything; really no need to.  But Mel’s there, nonetheless, quietly watching, sometimes making notes or writing something down.  I’ve yet to see what is ever written, and god knows where it goes or what gets done with it.  Sometimes after the meet, Mel and I sit and ‘recap’ the previous hour.  Sometimes Mel gives input about something that was said, maybe a suggestion on how I could have handled it better. To be honest, I think having Mel there is a complete waste of time and our meeting would go much smoother and we’d get further if it were just me and ‘the kid’. But it is what it is, and I can’t change it. Another thing: any advice Mel gives me usually goes in one ear and out the other.  I won’t say I dislike Mel, but over the course of the last year, I certainly haven’t grown any fonder, either. During our last meeting, the kid was angry. I could tell. It’s not something we speak about; that’s another of the unspoken rules. Another big one is this: No excuses. He doesn’t want to hear them. The only thing he wants to see is results. Either I’m making progress, or I’m not. No promises, no excuses.  Just results. And progress. If no results or progress are being made, nothing is said, but I’m unable to look him in the eye, and he knows as well as I do.  And it’s unacceptable for both of us. We each have our reasons, and we each have a stake in this.  It’s getting closer to three-thirty now, in fact, just moments away, and I can feel the butterfly’s in my stomach.  This is the hardest time to deal with. I’m already in the room in which we will meet, and I hear him enter the adjoining room.  I remind myself: An hour. Just get through the next sixty minutes in one piece, and then I’ll be free to walk out the door and try to produce enough new results to bring to the table to our next meeting that will make him proud and happy he’s stuck with me over the years.  Just an hour, I tell myself, to put on my best face, be brave, show him no fear, and know that when he leaves, he’s walking out that door with a good feeling about me inside.  His footsteps can be felt as he walks across the hardwood floor, towards the door that connects the two rooms. I hear the door squeak as it opens and I briefly close my eyes, opening them in time to see him rush through, arms open wide, as my eight year old son smiles and greets me warmly, saying: “Dad! I missed you!”

Appreciation

(Dedicated to those in my life whom I appreciate - you know who you are!)

Is there someone you know, perhaps work with, (or perhaps not) that goes out of their way to help you out? Perhaps you ride to work with them, or maybe they’re the one you call when you need a ride now and then. Maybe they run an errand for you on occasion when you can’t or don’t have the time. Or it’s them that you call when you’re in a pinch and need a sitter on short notice. Maybe they bring in food that they share with you. It could be any of the above, or a number of things I not only didn’t mention, but probably wouldn’t think of if I had all day. Whatever it is that they do for you that’s above and beyond the basics, it’s most likely something they don’t ‘have’ to do. Maybe it’s even something quite minor, but to you it makes all the difference in the world, and makes your life a lot easier or simpler.  Whatever it is, do you kinda take it for granted or do they know how much you really appreciate it?

                Why don’t you take a moment today and make sure they know how much it means to you? You could do it with a simple gift or card, something more elaborate if you’re able, or if you aren’t able to do that, at least bring it to their attention by stopping and talking to them. Make a special trip to their desk, office or work area when you don’t need anything from them or wanting them to do something for you. Let them know they aren't being taken advantage of and that you really do appreciate what they've done for you with a simple:"I really do appreciate everything you do for me, I wish there was more I could do to show it". It might make all the difference in the world to that person.

Empowerment

em·pow·er To give power or authority to, to enable or permit.

When I was in prison, one of the worst things somebody could do is call you a ‘punk’. That was pretty much immediate grounds for a fight. The same thing happened when somebody said something about your mother. I saw it happen over and over. I never bought into that kind of thinking. Was I a coward? No, actually it was harder and took more courage NOT to buy into it. After a couple of times of that happening, people kinda looked at me a little differently. Maybe not with ‘awe’, but at least with some respect, and usually at a distance. You see, by not buying into that whole belief, I took away the power that the other person was trying to gain. Once or twice, I even said: “You know what I think about your opinion?” And before they could answer, I’d turn and walk away. I wasn’t going to a give them the power over me, to dictate how I was going to act, based on how they felt, or what they said. The reason I bring this is, is it amounts to this: Peer pressure. I was faced with it there, just like you’re faced with it daily. In school as well as out of school. What other people think of you, matters to you. To say otherwise would be a lie. And that’s okay. We form friendships and groups of friends based on what we think of others and how they look at us.  It becomes a problem however, when you let what they think of you change who you are, or it impact the decision making you might have regarding important things. Do you stand up for the things you believe in, or are you likely to be swayed because to make a stand would be to stand out? Let me tell you something: sometime standing out isn’t that bad. Take for example, a group of a dozen kids who all look alike, dress similar and act the same way. They all go apply for a job. Let’s say just one of them has some individuality to be different. And I’m not saying you have to be a nerd, or a geek, just enough backbone to say: ‘I don’t have to be a clone’. Now, who do you think is going to stand out and be remembered when it comes time to choose an employee? Are you a follower, or a leader? Again, I’m not saying you have to be so different that you stand out so much that people stare and point at you when you walk down the street. But if you believe in something, don’t be afraid to stand up for it. You’re an individual; there’s no reason you shouldn’t let it show through. You don’t have to be 100% different than those around you, but you don’t have to be an identical twin with everybody you hang with either. Don’t let others make decisions for you. Don’t empower them, for when you do, you’re giving up a part of yourself. You’re giving in and letting somebody else make choices for you, and not always the best choices, either. Feel differently about something? Talk with your friends about it. There’s a possibility they may share your feelings as well, and were just waiting for someone else speak up and validate how they felt. Think about it.

How To Screw Up Your Interview - in 10 min or less

How To Screw Up Your Interview – in ten minutes or less

                Being prepared for your interview is important. Anticipating what you will be asked and having a good reply goes a long way towards improving your chances of being hired. The wrong answers to what you’ve been asked can be deadly. Consider the following questions;

·         Q: “Why did you leave your last place of employment?”

o   A: “I didn’t think it was a good idea to hang around after being fired.”

o   A: “I didn’t leave. At least not on my own. I had to be escorted out by security.”

o   A: “They ‘frowned’ upon downloading pornographic material on company computers.”

o   A: “They said I was never sober enough after lunch to get any work done.”

o   A: “Their work schedule and my life schedule had major conflicts.”

·         Q: “Do you have any commitments that would prevent you from working our normal 40 hour week?”

o   A: “Not unless I get committed again! “

o   A: “Is your 40 hour work week flex-time?”

o   A: “Seriously?” “For real?”  (I love that answer! It  can be used, across the board for some many questions)

·         Q:  “Would you be willing to take a drug test?”

o   A: “Uh, like in today? Can we put that off for a week or two?”

o   A: “Sure. As long as nobody watches me pee.”

o   A: “I’d prefer not to. I’ve tested so many drugs in my life, I’m kinda burnt out.”

o   A “Sure!! Do I get to choose which drugs I can test?”

o   A “If I like, give you $20 bucks, will you take it for me?”

Often an employer will inquire as to whether or not you have any questions.  Never say, “No”.  It shows you either aren’t interested or weren’t paying attention. On the other hand, I wouldn’t suggest asking any of the following, either:

·         “What’s this company’s policy regarding pressing charges on an employee?”

·         “How often can I take a break, and when’s lunch?”

·         “Can I keep my beer in the lunchroom refrigerator?”

·         “Is this a ‘zero-tolerance’ workplace, or will I get a second chance if I get caught?”

·         Who’s the hot chick answering the phones at the front desk? (and if the answer is: “My daughter”, don’t ask if he’ll give you her phone number. Better to not say a word and just turn around and leave.)

·         “Wanna arm wrestle?”

When filling out your application:

·         In the ‘Date’ box, don’t put: “Small, edible fruit.”

·         For the question, ‘Do you speak English?’ don’t write: “Si”

·         The ‘Sex’ box should only be answered with either ‘male’ or ‘female’.  Not:  “Whenever I can get it.” Or even “Yes!”

·         I know it’s tempting, but for the question: “Who should be call in case of an emergency?” The correct answer is a friend or family member. NOT: “How about a Frickin’ doctor, you moron?”

Things that might not be too good of an idea to say:

·         “I swear to God. If I don’t get this damn job, I’m going to kill myself!”

·         “I swear to God. If I don’t get this damn job, I’m coming back and killing someone!”

·         “I like to cross-dress. Do you have a problem with that?”

·         “I party pretty hard on the weekends, but usually I’m sober by Monday morning. Tuesday at the latest.”

·         “You don’t have to worry about me taking office supplies. I stocked up before getting fired from the last place.”

And in the box that says ‘Education’, don’t put “Yes.”  Although I guess that’s better than the following:

"Where did you receive your training?"
"Yale."
"Good, and what's your name?"
"Yim Yohnson." 

My First Attempt at a Short Story

Ronald J. Morse                                                                                             

Portland, OR 97233

503-200-8154

Ron.morse@gmail.com

STRANGERS, IN STRANGE HOUSES

by

Ronald J. Morse

Walking

      It’s cold out tonight.  Twenty eight degree at the moment.  And it’s late.  Almost midnight.  I’m on my way to the convenience store.  Seven-Eleven, if you must know.  This is my second trip there tonight.  The first time I bought a package of Pall Mall Red.  I prefer Camel Non-Filters, or, as they use to call them in the old days: Camel Straights. But they’re just too damn expensive for me now.  At least another two dollars.  Makes no sense at all. I also picked up a gallon of drinking water.  Use to be, I’d be buying one or two one-liter bottles of Mountain Dew. But back in October of last year, I was admitted to the hospital and was diagnosed with Diabetes.  That’ll put a damper on your mood in a big hurry. They said with exercise and proper diet I could probably keep it under control. When I left the hospital, after five days, I had been instructed on how to inject the insulin as well as given a large box of syringes. I guess it could be worse. I’m 52 years old, have been abusing my body, in one form or another for the better part of at least two-thirds of it.  You know the old saying: If I’d had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.  Anyway, all that’s pretty much immaterial and I’m getting off the subject.

      The girl behind the counter was nice. She had an open face and seemed easy to talk with. Not that I have any trouble talking with people. I’m pretty outgoing and I’ll talk to just about anybody. Sometimes, just for the hell of it, even if they don’t want to talk with me. But there was something pleasant about this girl. I’m usually a pretty funny guy, at least a lot of people tell me that.  Others say I’m an asshole, so go figure. I think she thought I was funny.  I had her laughing right away, and told her something funny that happened to me today.  Then I told her some one-liners, and then I told her some off-color jokes.  She didn’t get offended at all, in fact at one point, had she been drinking milk, I would have had her shooting it out of her nose. I even told her if I can get a girl to do that during our first date, I feel like I’ve really achieved something. At that point, I told her, they’re pretty much putty in my hands. I told her a few more ‘dirty’ jokes before I left, including, I think, a couple of penis jokes.  And Jesus jokes too. Didn’t seem to faze her one bit. I liked her even more for that.  Before I left I found out when she normally works and told her I’d stop back by. I didn’t even ask her what her name was. I thought about her a bit on the walk home. It’s about a ten or fifteen minute walk. I take a pathway that runs alongside a creek to one side, and the backside of houses and apartment complexes. Actually, they’re more like townhouses than what I picture apartment buildings to look like when I think about them. Walking along the path, there isn’t much to see regarding the creek. Much too dark, even when the moon is out, like it was tonight. There were no clouds in the sky, and you could see the stars clearly. That’s part of the reason it was so cold out. No clouds to keep the warmth blanketed to the earth. So the only thing of interest to look at while I walked were the houses. They sit fairly close to the path, and it’s easy to see inside the ones that have interior lights lit and no curtains drawn. Since it’s pretty secluded back there, a lot of them were like that tonight. So I walked, absently gazing into the houses I passed, and passed the time thinking about the girl.

      Home

      It was much warmer at home. You might think that’s a given, but you don’t know where I live, or how I live. I mean, how could you? I haven’t said anything about it. It was warmer because I have a little space heater that I’ve had running on high for at least the last three days. I live in a garage, if you must know. But it’s not as bad as it might sound. It’s a clean, neat garage. There aren’t any car parts or gas cans or jars of rusty screws and nails anywhere. Nothing that might come to mind when you think about a garage. I’d recently put down carpet so I’m not walking around on cold damp concrete. I say recently, as if I’ve been here a long time. I put the carpet down about four days ago. I’ve been here about two weeks, again, if you must know. I’ve got a mattress pushed up against one corner. It’s one of those cheap thin kinds. You’ve probably seen them at Goodwill or The Salvation Army thrift store. With the coil springs throughout it. It’s really not very comfortable at all, but I’ve got a sleeping bag on top of it, along with a couple of thick blankets. Anyway, it’s a step up from the foldable cot I was using, and compared to what it would be like to sleep directly on the concrete, I sure can’t complain. I’m really not much of a complainer anyway. God knows, if I was, there are a lot of things in my life I could complain about. I also have a heavy tarp that splits the garage in half. I live in the back half. The tarp also helps keep the heat in. Other than that, there’s a big screen television in another corner, a little lamp and stool and my laptop. I guess the television works. At least that’s what I’ve been told. Doesn’t really matter to me. There’s no antenna on it, and even if there was, I doubt I’d watch it for more than five or ten minutes on any given day. I don’t have much interest for anything I’d see on it anyway. I don’t know why, that’s just the way I am, I guess. I’m more likely to be thankful for things than I am to complain about them. It could be worse. In fact, it has been worse at times.  It’s much more comfortable here then it was at the airport when I stayed there for a few days. That was only a month ago, although it seems like longer. In fact, if you’re keeping track, it was two days before and one day after January First. That’s right,  I  spent New Year’s Eve on some lousy waiting benches at the airport. You got something you want to say about that?  I didn’t think so. It may have been uncomfortable, but at least it was warm.  A lot warmer than my other option; that would have been the streets. It was cold on New Year’s also. Down in the low thirty’s.  And while it was warmer at the airport than it is here in the garage, it lacked privacy. If you can’t tell, I’m pretty big on privacy. I mean, what I do really isn’t anybody else business. And I don’t like people watching what I’m doing, even when I’m not doing anything at all.

      My garage is about twice the size of a prison cell, in case you’re wondering. I know how big prison cells are as well. Lived in one for a while. I didn’t like it much; you don’t get much privacy there either. But that was a long time ago. Almost a lifetime ago, it seems. I guess you could say my life’s had some ups and downs. That’s a pretty safe statement. I’ve even had times that I could easily say were good time. Really good times. These last couple of years haven’t been too good though. A lot’s happened, but I don’t feel like going into all that again. Maybe some other time. When I have the strength, then again, maybe not.

     

.

  

Back to Seven-Eleven

      I’d been home for about 45 minutes, maybe even an hour. I’m not sure; sometimes I really don’t keep track of time. Especially if I don’t have something to do, or somewhere to go.  Like earlier tonight. But I know at one point I decided to make another trip back to Seven-Eleven. Even though I know it must be even colder outside then it was earlier. That didn’t bother me much. I really didn’t even have a good reason to be going back. There wasn’t anything I needed. I hadn’t forgotten anything the first time. In my mind I tried to think of something I’d buy when I got there, but I came up blank. I bundled up and went anyway. I took the same path as before, but this time I hardly noticed the houses, with their warm glow of the dimmed lights. My thoughts were consumed with what I was going to buy. And what I was planning on saying to the girl whose name I didn’t even know. Trying to decide what I was going to buy was interfering with my thoughts what I was going to say. I was putting together some pretty funny shit in my head, but couldn’t concentrate until I decided what I would purchase once there. I couldn’t just show up, walk in and wander around the store for a few minutes and then casually stroll up to the counter without it looking a little odd, now could I? Then it came to me, as I was recalling a joke about a duck that goes to the drugstore and selects some condoms. He tells the man behind the counter to, “Put ‘em on my bill”. Let me ask you something: Where the fuck do ideas come from?   I mean, one minute I’ll be damned if I can come up with a single thing to bring to the counter to buy, and a moment later, there it is; the perfect item. Oh, I wasn’t going to actually purchase them. I don’t need em. I got that taken care of years ago, not that it’s any of your business.

      No, all of a sudden, I had a plan and everything that was going through my mind to say fell in place. I’d grab six of seven of the Magnum XXX condoms that are boldly advertised on the box as being the EXTRA LARGE size. I think they come in three-packs or something. Anyway, I’d bring them to the counter, with a straight  face tell her I’m a firm believer in the power of positive thinking, plus I’m more  of an optimistic than the average guy, and then I’d ask her if she  had any plans after she got off work. I didn’t think I was going to get any action out of this, and didn’t expect any. But I think she would have thought it was funny as hell, and from there I could tell her a few more penis jokes or something.

      When I got to the store, the first thing I noticed was it wasn’t her behind the counter.  It was some fat guy with mutton chop sideburns, and let me be the first to tell you: I didn’t think he was nearly as cute as she was. Hell, you’d be generous if you were to label him as just ‘unattractive’. What the hell, I’d walked all this way, might as well go in and buy something. Now I had no problem choosing something to buy. I bought a large coffee because it was so fucking cold out. I asked the guy where the girl was that was working a little earlier. He didn’t know shit.  He didn’t even know what her name was. He wasn’t one of those kinds of guys who become friendly with customers. In fact, he didn’t appear to have much of a personality at all, and I had no desire to talk with him.  Whether he wanted to talk or not. I just wanted to pay for my coffee and get away from him. And I’ll be damned if I was going to tell him any penis jokes. I have no idea what his name was either, but I couldn’t have cared less.

The Strange Part

    

      I took my time walking back home.  I mean, as much time as you can take on a ten or fifteen minute walk. I really wasn’t in much of a hurry. When you’re living like I am, ‘home’ really isn’t much of a destination that calls to you with any urgency. And now, for some reason, I wasn’t really bothered by the cold, in fact I wasn’t even aware of it. Now, as I strolled along the path, I had other things on my mind. Different things. My mood had changed so much from how it was just minutes ago.  Still walking the same path, but now going in another direction. Before, I had a destination that I wanted to reach, and was looking forward to reaching it. All of a sudden, what I realized was that I had become a little saddened. I’d like to say I had become ‘melancholy’ but it seems that word isn’t used much anymore. Hell, I’d be surprised if half the kids today even knew what it means.  So I’ll stick with saddened, even though I like melancholy better. I got this way, I think, from looking into the windows of the homes I passed. I was doing more than just looking into the windows I realized, I was looking into the lives of people who live in these homes. At least that’s the way I imagined it. In a few of them, there was some late-night activity. An older couple sitting side by side on the couch, drinking something. Close to each other. I was staring right at them, and it looked like they were staring back at me, but I knew they couldn’t see me out here in the darkness. The television set was between us, and I imagined that maybe they were watching an old black and white movie that they had once enjoyed together a long time ago. Back when they were younger. I stood and watched them for some time and didn’t feel the least obscene for doing so. At one point it looked like he commented on something that was happening on the television and she turned and looked at him, kind of surprised, and then they both started laughing and he leaned over and pressed his lips against her cheek.

      All of a sudden I felt a little funny about watching them and moved on down the path.  There were several other homes along the way that I was able to see into, and they all had ‘warmth’ about them. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was something else. But it occurred to me that in my mind the ones I could see into were ‘homes’, while the remaining ones that had the drapes closed and the  lights off were just ‘houses’. I had to think about this for a minute and figure out what that meant. I knew there was importance in the distinction, and it touched me somewhere inside, somewhere that made me feel uncomfortable, and for a brief moment I didn’t want to think about it at all. Houses, homes, what difference did it make? I walked by another, and while there was nobody to see inside, a table lamp was on, as well as another light. I couldn’t tell where the other light was coming from, but it warmly lit up a dining room. Attached to that room was what looked to be a family room, and the embers of a fire in the fireplace still glowed. I imagined the family that lived there. A happy, healthy family. In my mind, I could picture them gathering for their evening meal together. Possibly saying Grace before eating. Excited to share the events of their day with the others. I thought about this family for quite some time, wondered what they talked about when they talked. For a few moments, in my mind, I had become intimate with this family, who, in reality, were but strangers to me.  Strangers in a strange house. But I felt I shared something with them. Or at least at one time in my life I had. That was my life, a long time ago, in fact, a lifetime ago, it seems.  Until tonight, I hadn’t given much thought to that life of mine, gone for so long now.  I really hadn’t even realized, or noticed that it was, in fact, gone.  But the thought and emotion that stuck me the hardest, and most surprisingly, was how deeply I missed that life, and how, the further away it became, the emptier mine had become.  These strangers, in their strange house, no; their ‘home’, had something I had forgotten I once owned as well. Remembering this brought a new wave of emotions about me, and I could no longer endure all these thoughts.  In fact, I felt the need to be away from here as quickly as possible. To go somewhere else, anywhere else, even if it’s my lonely garage. When an important part of your life is missing, and has been gone for so long that it’s faded from your memory and you’ve forgotten how it feels to miss it, I think it hurts twice as much when the memory comes back.  I also knew that tomorrow I had somewhere I had to go that was as equally as important.  I have to return to seven-eleven and ask the girl who works behind the counter what her name is.

Workplace Romances - The good, bad and the ugly

Interoffice Romances – Good? Bad? Or Ugly?

                With Valentine’s Day here, now might be a good time to take a look at love in the workplace. Let me be clear on one thing before going any further – I’m NOT going to try to discourage it from happening, no matter how bad of an idea I may or may not think it is. When there’s a spark between two people, I don’t think it matters where it occurred, and most likely you’re not going to be talked out of it.

                Given the amount of time we spend at work; 40-50 hours per week on average, it stands to reason that we’re going to develop relationships with our co-workers. And it’s a good thing we do; can you imagine what work would be like if nobody got to know each other? I’d be like working with a new set of strangers every day. Having good relationships with your co-workers makes work more pleasant and increases productivity. There’s a good chance that some of these work relationships will develop further, into something more personal and romantic and intimate.  However you wish to describe it, or label it, they can be fun, they can be exciting and they can be a career ending mistake. Having somebody in your office or company that you’re involved with can be a great motivational factor. Just like dating outside the  workplace, you often want  to impress the other person, and what better way to do so at work then “showing off” your job skills and talents. You’re likely to be attempting to stand out by increasing your  productivity  or accuracy, or your  work ethics, even the way you dress is likely to change somewhat. Knowing you’re going to come into some kind of contact with that person is likely to make you a little more self-conscious about all these things. You certainly don’t want them seeing you as sloppy, lazy or non-motivated. So, in those regards, I think dating a coworker can be a very positive event.

                Some companies have strict policies against dating coworkers and even more specifically, relationships between bosses and those under him (or her). And arguably so – it could easily be imagined how favoritism could play into that, causing friction and hostility between others in the department or group. Are these rules and policies and restrictions going to stop it from happening? Probably not. It might, however, make you a little more cautious and secretive, which in its own way might make that relationship even more exciting. Keep in mind however, chances are on or both of you have at least one close friend or co-worker who you share secrets and gossip with, and even though they give their word it won’t go any further, you might not be the only co-worker they exchange bits of  ‘office news’ with. And let’s say you are able to keep from telling anybody about the two of you, keeping it on the sly. Maybe you’re patting yourselves on the back on how discreet the two of you are and how you’re able to maintain the professional mannerism in the work place. I have news for you: if you’re in a relationship with someone and it’s developed  into something you feel you need to keep on the down low, it’s nearly impossible  to suppress all those  feelings , actions, the little ‘looks’ you give each other, or grin they give you, but nobody else. If you’re in a relationship, all these things exist, to some degree, and you might think the two of you are the only ones who catch them, but you’re probably wrong.

                There are fine lines between Friendliness, Friendship, Flirting and Sexual Harassment. And to make it more confusing, those lines vary from person to person. What you may consider ‘just being friendly’, your co-worker, who has different beliefs, views and personal boundaries, may very well perceive your actions as being flirtatious. And vise-versa of course. Taking it a step further, you might be reading someone’s signs as being flirtatious, when their just being friendly in the way that is natural to them, and your responses to this perceived flirtation may not seem ‘out of line to you’, heck, you’re just flirting back, right? Wrong! Not if they weren’t flirting with you to begin with. Now you’re possibly crossing that line into sexual harassment and offending them. No reason to delve any further into explaining this: We’re all big boys and girls here. If you’re in the ‘pre-dating’ stage and you think your co-worker has the ‘hots; for you and you want to take it further, us caution. Be sure you aren’t reading their actions incorrectly When in doubt, err on the side of caution. And finally, I guess something should be mentioned regarding relationships gone badly. I think we all know of, or have been part of an ugly breakup. It’s part of life, it happens and although we like to think that special relationship we’re in is going to last forever, or at least when it does end, it’ll be amicable. And hopefully that’s the way it does end if things don’t work out. But when it’s an ugly breakup and your partner is a co-worker, it can be awkward at best, and downright a living hell at worst. Remember, you’re still going to be forced to see them to some degree on possibly a daily basis, and maybe have to work directly with or for them still. You may be able to pick and choose where you go and what you do after work, in order avoid running into that person, but  unless you’re willing to change your  place of employment, you don’t have much  option here  except to put  on a good face, grin  and bear it and hopefully  get  through  it without  too much embarrassment or suffering. One last, final thought:  Sometimes there can seem to be a fine line between love and stalking, but under no circumstance is stalking an acceptable behavior.