Schadenfreude

Standard


I know reading about the details of somebody else’s work life is less than scintillating, so let me spare you girls that and just hit the barest outline: someone that I’m working with from another organization to put on a very complicated and big deal event just got the axe from his agency, leaving me scrambling and ready to shriek like the high point of a B 52’s song. The upside? A whiff of scandal. Ooooh. Everyone’s being terribly discreet, but you know how it is, an unfinished sentence here, a lifted eyebrow there, nothing untoward, of course, because we’re all ever so professional. But I got my Nancy Drew sweater set on and I am on the trail of dirt; plus I have a friend in the guy’s former office. A mole, could it be more fabulous? Today, speaking with her, I swore I wasn’t interested in the sordid details that she’s not supposed to be sharing anyway. Next week, I’ll suggest lunch or, better still, drinks. I predict to have the case cracked by Tuesday, September 23, maybe by noon, certainly no later than COB.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

7 responses »

  1. “George” Fayne was definitely a dyke — cropped hair, tailored clothes, brash attitude and all. Her blonde cream puff cousin, Bess Marvin, was variously described as “pretty,” “pleasingly plump,” and basically a dithering fool — I picture Jean Smart in “Designing Women,” junior league.

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