Fishing expedition
On Monday night X rather than Y was Duty Manager; the first time we had worked together.
There were few problems although I think she was watching my work rate and may have concluded that it wasn't high; I was taking the opportunity afforded by her failure to push me to take some time out to write up some careful notes. There was also a breakdown in communication at closing time which allowed a couple of chancers to charge through.
We also got rather cosmopolitan at one point, dealing three-way with stranded Polish customer who had topped up his phone at the kiosk only to find 20 minutes later that he still had no credit. Fortunately Regina was working the shop floor and could explain to him that sometimes the credit takes longer than this to come through and he needed to be patient.
The difficulty in fact lay in making Regina understand using English what it was we wanted her to explain in Polish to him. Whatever she said to him he had a smile on his face when he left.
Early in the shift when the office was quite full there was some sniggering about the Manager and one of the Manager's Assistants. Someone told me years ago that the two of them were conducting an affair, that he gets beaten up by his wife and that she too is married to a violent bully. The Fat Bastard has added that one of the supervisors who is married to the woman's husband's brother (ie, they're sisters-in-law through marriage to brothers) is quivering with unrequited passion for the manager.
At this point I should explain that he's short (around 5'2" or 5'3") middle aged and balding. The Manager has altered his shifts to make them coincide with those of his paramour. Good luck to the pair of them.
Later in the afternoon I heard all about X's gynaecological travails; after she left the office I had to agree with the one of the young department heads that the freedom with which these middle-aged women discuss their most intimate bodily functions is simply staggering. In all my working life I have never previously been exposed to such grisly detail.
Later still X and I had a quieter more measured conversation and only afterwards when I had had the chance to reflect did it dawn on me that this was all a fishing expedition. She asked a delicately phrased question about the Fat Bastard and me and I admitted that we're really only married in name and living under the same roof for practical reasons. She admired our ability to keep things civilised (ha!) and admitted that she hadn't spoken to her ex in about a couple of decades and that their children have been forced to take sides. She then asked about how we handled one or other of us wanting to bring home a "visitor".
It has been almost eight years since I had anyone else in my bed except in my imagination and I effectively admitted as such. He, on the other hand, is conducting a long term relationship and if she does come here they stay in London or enjoy a weekend break at one or other Euro-capital.
That was when X gave the game away by asking if I meant the woman in America. Oh yes he is soooooo discrete. I'm still not sure if he's been at it with anyone else. In fact he might well have been at it with her. Perhaps that's it. He's been at it with her and she wants to know if what he's told her, which was probably something along the lines of 'she doesn't love me any more and won't care', was true. If only she knew how I'd feel about her if I ever got confirmation; not hate her for fucking my husband but for doing such a bad job of it that he won't leave
There were few problems although I think she was watching my work rate and may have concluded that it wasn't high; I was taking the opportunity afforded by her failure to push me to take some time out to write up some careful notes. There was also a breakdown in communication at closing time which allowed a couple of chancers to charge through.
We also got rather cosmopolitan at one point, dealing three-way with stranded Polish customer who had topped up his phone at the kiosk only to find 20 minutes later that he still had no credit. Fortunately Regina was working the shop floor and could explain to him that sometimes the credit takes longer than this to come through and he needed to be patient.
The difficulty in fact lay in making Regina understand using English what it was we wanted her to explain in Polish to him. Whatever she said to him he had a smile on his face when he left.
Early in the shift when the office was quite full there was some sniggering about the Manager and one of the Manager's Assistants. Someone told me years ago that the two of them were conducting an affair, that he gets beaten up by his wife and that she too is married to a violent bully. The Fat Bastard has added that one of the supervisors who is married to the woman's husband's brother (ie, they're sisters-in-law through marriage to brothers) is quivering with unrequited passion for the manager.
At this point I should explain that he's short (around 5'2" or 5'3") middle aged and balding. The Manager has altered his shifts to make them coincide with those of his paramour. Good luck to the pair of them.
Later in the afternoon I heard all about X's gynaecological travails; after she left the office I had to agree with the one of the young department heads that the freedom with which these middle-aged women discuss their most intimate bodily functions is simply staggering. In all my working life I have never previously been exposed to such grisly detail.
Later still X and I had a quieter more measured conversation and only afterwards when I had had the chance to reflect did it dawn on me that this was all a fishing expedition. She asked a delicately phrased question about the Fat Bastard and me and I admitted that we're really only married in name and living under the same roof for practical reasons. She admired our ability to keep things civilised (ha!) and admitted that she hadn't spoken to her ex in about a couple of decades and that their children have been forced to take sides. She then asked about how we handled one or other of us wanting to bring home a "visitor".
It has been almost eight years since I had anyone else in my bed except in my imagination and I effectively admitted as such. He, on the other hand, is conducting a long term relationship and if she does come here they stay in London or enjoy a weekend break at one or other Euro-capital.
That was when X gave the game away by asking if I meant the woman in America. Oh yes he is soooooo discrete. I'm still not sure if he's been at it with anyone else. In fact he might well have been at it with her. Perhaps that's it. He's been at it with her and she wants to know if what he's told her, which was probably something along the lines of 'she doesn't love me any more and won't care', was true. If only she knew how I'd feel about her if I ever got confirmation; not hate her for fucking my husband but for doing such a bad job of it that he won't leave
posted by Enyo @ 11:37 am
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