Hey! That’s my mug!

 
What happens when a newbie uses the director's coffee mug?
Answer: All hell breaks loose.

 
My friend, let's call him Bill for the purposes of this story, recently started a new job. Unaware of office etiquette surrounding personal mugs and in dire need of caffeine, he reached in to the cupboard and took the closest mug on offer. Unfortunately for him the mug turned out to belong to a senior director, let's call her Meg. Her fictional namesake is Meg the Hen from my son's reading books and it seems to fit the profile. Meg is a little OCD. This use of her mug was regarded as an assault upon her person and her office. To say she was livid it no exaggeration.

 
Bill is a man. Obviously, who knows any women called Bill? Anyway, Bill being a man could not fathom how anyone could possible over react so monstrously to the use of a piece of crockery, it was not as though he has started wearing her underwear after all. At most in this situation you would expect the conversation to go as follow:

 
"You are using my mug!"
"Oh, I am so sorry, I didn't realise, I won't do it again."
"Thank you, see that you don't."

 
And that would be the end of that.
Only in this case it wasn't.

 
Meg, decided to escalate her displeasure at the abuse of her mug by one of the great unwashed (aka anyone else). She laid an official complaint with the powers that be of theft, misuse of personal property and a variety of other charges stemming from some deep insecurity that no-one respects her. It appears her fears have some roots. Some of other charges included being humiliated, having her authority questioned and so on. Bill was called in to explain his actions.

 
"I didn't know it was her mug. It was my first day and I wanted some coffee. I said I was sorry."

 
Shortly after this Ted appeared on the scene. Bill and Ted form a partnership much like that of their movie namesakes. Meg took one look at Ted and burst into tears blithering on about a conspiracy against her. She and Ted have a "history". The relationship deteriorated further. Every day she laid another charge against the duo until it became more than a farce than at its inception.

 
Of course it was inevitable that Bill was going to strike back. This leads to an insight about the sexes. Women will rush in where angels fear to tread, whereas men prefer to strategise their assault. Bill began by making a cup of coffee in the mug each day and taking a picture of himself drinking from it. These make up quite a nice collage on his desk.

 
Then one bright and sunny morning Bill had had enough. He laid a charge of sexual harassment against Meg for stalking him, staring at his crotch and generally regarding him a sex object making him feel extremely uncomfortable. Now labour law takes these quite seriously and so Meg was called in to answer to these charges.

 
The following day while the office was gathered together in the cozy communal workspace, Bill left his zipper down. It didn't reveal anything untoward, but a nice pair of natty Calvin Kleins. It is a fact universally acknowledged that no-one can help but stare at a zipper that is down. Women particularly as they wonder how to inform the person that their zipper is down while remaining innocent of staring at the offending body part.

 
Bill waited until Meg's gaze was draw inexorably down, before exclaiming loudly to the office, "Look! This is what I mean. She's doing it again! She's staring at my crotch!" He followed up with a lovely metrosexual emotionally laden sniff and vacated the room. There was a moment of silence before laughter erupted led by the powers that be and a large round of applause.

 
The moral of the story is don't go running to your boss to solve your petty coffee mug squabbles and never ever underestimate office politics. Also, if you think people don't like you you're probably right. Get over it. No everyone has to like you. God knows you probably don't like everyone either.

The Succubus and the Comeuppance

Like many words a succubus has new and layered definitions. From being a female demon who preys on sleeping men for sexual power, it now also refers to women outside of the bedroom and in the boardroom.

In every office space there is one. One who feeds off spreading malicious rumour, unfounded accusation and supposition. The one who sits back and gloats as her seeds take root and grow in the drip tray of the watercooler. The one who always regards him or herself as the innocent victim in a tyrannous world filled with inequality.

The one from whom no-one is safe when one’s back is turned. Whose tongue is a sharp series of serrations honed on character assassination.

It’s part and parcel of life in a rabbit warren. That doesn’t mean I like it or condone it. There is a special sort of cowardice in one who will not face a problem head on, but prefers to undermine foundations from beneath.

Straight up? If you have a problem with a colleague, do yourself a favour and tell them about it, not everyone else. Firstly, it is not my problem. Secondly, even my children know better. Gossip and rumour is grist to the millwheel of karma. Eventually, it will bite you so hard on your ass that you won’t sit for a week.  

Here is a basic law. Do not make an accusation you cannot back up with hard fact and it your moral responsibility to give the person concerned the chance to defend themselves. If you reach your thirties still dependent on others to fight your battles, your chances of climbing the corporate ladder are slim to nil.  It’s time to put on your big girl panties and grow up.

If say, a colleague buys a piece of jewellery you’ve had your eye on, don’t go behind her back and accuse her of stealing it. That’s just petty.

When you want to say something mean about someone, remember that commandment, “Do unto others”, don’t share your dislike in front of that person in another language. That isn’t even petty, it’s indefinable. It’s also a strange thing to do, when a few weeks past you accused someone else of doing the very same thing.

If someone gets hauled in front of the boss for a minor infraction, don’t gloat about how they deserved it. You end up painting a picture of yourself as a person who cannot be trusted, who is utterly narcissistic and on a one-way trip to self-destruction. If you hate your job and your colleagues so much, leave.  

For some reason I have come against a number of women since motherhood who have resented my ability to breed with something akin to a deadly sin. Loathing a single mother for being able to give birth when you are struggling is sick, twisted and disgusting. Disliking a person because they’ve managed to have more than one child and you haven’t is bizarre. Turning that into reasons to constantly put down and belittle mothers who work with you is beyond the pale. The sad thing is that I doubt they stop to examine their reasons too closely. After all, who would want to?

A word of warning if you ever work with me. Do not make your problems mine. I have enough of my own. If you are going to storm into my office and make unfounded accusations based in rumour and your own over active imagination, I will throw you out. Just like I did today.