Sharisse, my supervisor, noticed the change in my attitude first. My three month long temp assignment at the processing department of a big L. A. bank had been a blast. Temping is usually a pain but this assignment was fun. Easy job, fun co-workers and a central location in a large office building next to a strip mall with a bookstore and Mexican restaurant Who could ask for more, except maybe a trust fund! I was a model worker til I developed a crush on a sexy middle-aged guy who owned another business in the building. The first day I worked at the bank I noticed Phil joking around with the girl who ran the magazine stand downstairs. He was tall and little chunky round the middle, somewhere in his 40s with thick black hair that was surely the envy of a lot of men his age. Every few days after that I’d see him getting in the elevator or grabbing a cup of coffee at the Starbucks. Even though he was quite older than me and no stud, there was something about him that I found attractive. He radiated a genial charisma that drove me crazy.
Now if I could only strike up the nerve to speak to him.
One morning, I got to the office early and lingered by the magazine stand, flipping through a copy of Jane a half dozen times before he finally came in. He didn’t see me, but I eyed him as he grabbed a copy of the Times.
“You’re looking good today, Sarah,” He winked at the girl behind the register. “Like your top.”
“Yeah, right. You like what’s underneath it,” she joked, pulling her tank top up til it fully covered her ample bosom.
“Sssh! Don’t say things like that. I’ll get popped for sexual harassment if that spinster saleswoman comes down here and eavesdrops.” He left a dollar on the counter and headed for the elevator, winking at me before he walked out the door.
Finally, I made my getaway, buying the magazine cause I felt guilty for thumbing through it so long it was practically unsalable. “Who was that guy?” I asked as the girl rang up the sale.
“Oh, that’s Phil. He owns the real estate place on the 10th floor. Nice guy, but he’s been a real pain since he got divorced. Hits on every female in the building. You’ll be next”
“Well, I’ll have to be on guard then,” I said, trying not to smile too much. When I got back to the processing department, I retreated to my cubicle, put on my headphones and pretended to work while I devised a plan to “bump” into Phil. Sharisse noticed my preoccupied grin, and questioned me.
“OK, Brenda, what’s up?” “I’m doing my work and listening to the Ramones.”
“What’s his name? I can tell when a girl’s sweet on a man. Don’t deny it. Who is he?”
“Oh, can’t I keep it a secret? I don’t want the whole building to know.”
“It’s that player from the real estate agency. I knew it.”
“He was looking at me today.” I blurted, lowering my voice as an afterthought. But how do I get him? I can’t go up to his office and say “Hey, let’s do it.”
“No, that’s his job. You gotta use what you got to trap him. Now what was he looking at today.”
“I don’t know.” Jeremy, a fledging fashion designer and temp from another agency sauntered over to my cubicle.
“Honey, I’m not predisposed to your type at all and even I know what he was looking at.”
“What?” I said, confused. Sharisse and Jeremy burst out laughing.
“Stand up, honey,” Sharisse said.
“Side view,” Jeremy added. “What? Are you guys making fun of me?”
I stood sideways in front of them. “Do I have a stain on my pants?” I panicked, craning my neck and looking at my rear.
“No, honey, you got a bubble butt.” Sharisse laughed.
“That is a big booty for a white girl, Bren,” Jeremy laughed. I blushed.
“That’s what you have to use to get your man,” Sharisse said.
Just then, Randall, the floor supervisor, a passive aggressive geek with a dirt-thin mustache poked his head over the cubicle partition. “Break time is over, folks. Get back to work.”
Sharisse and Jeremy scattered. Flustered that he had seen me modeling my butt, I sat back down and craned my head intently against the computer screen. My face turned eight different shades of red as I attempted to type in a check number, though I could have sworn I saw Randall winking at me before he continued on his rounds.
The next morning, Jeremy comforted me. “Don’t worry, hon. Nothing’s gonna happen to your job. Randall likes you too much to let you go.” He winked and returned to his workstation. Oh great, now I had the geek after me when I wanted the stud. Story of my life. I took an early lunch, escaping to the courtyard with a sushi platter from the Japanese restaurant in the lobby. I opened my journal and scribbled in it aimlessly, unable to concentrate. I looked up and saw Phil and his business partner walk out of the office building’s revolving doors. Both clad in jeans and T-shirts, they were laughing, seemingly deep in conversation about some triviality. In his casual Friday attire, Phil looked like an entirely different person. Younger, friendlier, more accessible.
A Britney Spears lookalike rollerbladed by the fountain with her shirtless boyfriend. I glanced over at Phil, whose eyesight drifted away from his buddy and over to Britney every few seconds. I smiled at her boyfriend, who winked at me when she skated off toward the fountain.
“What are you grinning about, gorgeous?” Phil’s voice startled me. He looked me over, and my whole body prickled to attention as he walked closer.
I remembered Sharisse’s advance and took action. I dropped my pen.
“Oh, let me get that for you.” “No, that’s Ok. I got it.”
I bent down slowly, trying my best not to giggle or show any emotion. As I straightened my back, I heard him moan.
“That’s it. Take your time.”
“What’s your name?”
“Brenda.”