Sitting opposite the prowling middle-aged male lawyer in the small confines of my office, I try desperately to stop imitating his body language, while simultaneously fighting the impulse to twirl my hair, conscious of the assertion by experts in this field that twirling hair evidences attraction. There certainly is no attraction. And I don’t want to encourage in any way what I know is to come next: the obligatory “we should go for a drink after work to discuss…..” In fact, I’m already thinking of excuses to avoid separating myself from the rest of the female office pack.
“We should go for a drink after work to discuss…” he suggests. The bait is set and now it’s my job to wriggle off the line. I think about the many times I’ve heard the giggles of young office juniors when confronted with the suggestion of a drink with the prowling middle-aged lawyer (then, as she walks past her fellow juniors, rolls her eyes and sticks her fingers jokingly down her throat as he strides in front, oblivious).
The tragedy for the male lawyers of a certain age is that they get sussed straight away – even by the younger members of staff. For the thrusting alpha male, it’s different, his (albeit moderate) charm shrouding his intentions, enabling him to flirt sufficiently successfully to get his mandatory coffee placed on his desk in time for when he comes into the office. Us ‘lesser’ staff members, women and men alike, have to put the kettle on ourselves – a strong coffee being the main diet in the office.
Anyway. The male lawyer swaggers from my office and quietly shuts the door behind him, leaving me to quietly laugh to myself at how predictable men are. It would be terrible if they weren’t so predictable, I reflect. But then I stop laughing. I realise I have actually said “yes” to the drink.
Debbie will be back next week to continue her tales of
jungle office life.