HR accused me of stealing from the company today. 

I think Triplet, the VP of HR, now believes she is Kyra Sedgwick, star of "The Closer".

Triplet sent me a message this morning informing me that very serious accusations have been brought against me and that we would need to meet and discuss at 5:00 p.m. today.

This is how she thinks she'll make me sweat.

I responded by saying: I can't make it at that time. But I'm free at 4:00.

I'm sure this infuriated her. She did not want to lose her strength of position by letting me set the time, so she informed me that I would have to accommodate her request.

I told her that she would have to take it up with Smithee, my boss, who has scheduled a budget meeting with me at that time.

She then sent a message to Smithee explaining to him the situation and how critical it was to meet with me at 5:00 today.   

Smithee responded.

Kyra met with me at 4:00 today.

We sat in the small HR conference room which coincidentally resembles an interrogation room. She sat across from me with an unopened Diet Dr. Pepper on the table in front of her. She stared at me without saying a word.

This is how she thinks she'll make me nervous.

"What am I doing here?" I finally ask.

After a dramatic Kyra pause, Triplet says: "Does this can of Diet Dr. Pepper look familiar?"

I examine it closely. "This particular can does not look familiar. However, I have consumed similar cans of Diet Dr. Pepper."

"Yes, I know," she said. "In fact, you've been seen leaving the building after work with an unopened can of Diet Dr. Pepper on multiple occasions."

I stared at her for a moment in disbelief. It's usually no surprise when I get called to HR. For example, I fully expected Triplet to call me in because I told someone Aho made fun of Mai Ding. I knew HR would call when it appeared Smithee had been murdered. I knew I would be sent to HR when I burned to death in the pretend fire during the fire drill. I expected trouble when I sold candy bars and cookies to compete with kids whose parent's work here.

This one was a surprise.

"Are you saying that if I walk out of the building with a can of Diet Dr. Pepper that got from a company fridge--I'm stealing from the company?"

"Let me clarify," she said. "You are stealing from the company if you walk out of the building with an unopened can of Diet Dr. Pepper that you got from a company fridge."

I just stared at her.

She explained further: "It's no different than the use of company office equipment. You can use a company pen on company property, but when you put it in your pocket and walk out of the building, technically, you've stolen from the company. Consumables are slightly different in that once you've initiated consumption, the product is fully depreciated and it becomes your property no matter where you are. Which is why it's not considered stealing if you leave the building with an opened can of Diet Dr. Pepper. I mean, who's going to drink it after you've opened it, right?"

There was a moment during her explanation that I thought I wouldn't have a response. But magically, as soon as she finished, I blurted out:

"What if I licked it?"

"What?" she asked with that familiar repulsive look on her face that indicates, I don't know where you're going with this but I know you're going to somehow make it make sense and win again.

"What if I licked it before I left the building?" I asked. "Who would want to drink it if I licked the top, right?"

She sighed. "Why would you lick the top?"

"It's personal," I said. "Can I go now?"

In her Kyra best effort, Triplet tried working multiple angles to discredit my lick the top of the can defense, but she fell short every time.

I was curious to know who turned me in, but she wouldn't expose the witness. Someone's out to get me. I'm feeling paranoid again...

Blair's breasts have been staring at me all day. 

I swear to God, her tits have eyes. She hasn't looked at me once, but I know she sees my every move. The only explanation I can think of is that her tits have eyes.

And it's like we've been having a staring contest the whole day. Her tits won't blink; neither will my eyes.

In direct line of my office, but down the hall is a machine used for high-speed scanning. I don't know what the fuck she's scanning, but she's been doing it all day.

I wandered over there at some point and asked her why she was doing it on my floor. She explained that the other scanner on the 27th floor was always tied up because of the Category coordinators.

Blair was very pleasant, which is how I knew she was not being friendly. When Blair is being friendly, she's not pleasant. She's actually mean, which is how I know she's being friendly. 

Her friend, Bendy Wendy, was watching me all day yesterday. Then I got that email from Blair accusing me of wanting to hook up with someone on my new floor. When I left for the day, I sent a casual message asking: and who would that be?

She didn't respond.

I think Maricruz was watching Blair's tits watch me all day too. At first, she believed Faudeux the cock-blocker when he said something was going on between Blair and me. But after the rumor mill destroyed his credibility, she no longer believed what was actually true. But with Blair's tits staring at me like a jealous girlfriend, I'm sure Maricruz got suspicious again.

So this was my dilemma: I'm sure Blair was on my floor today just to catch me talking to the woman she thought I wanted to hook up with so that she could say ah-ha! So I couldn't go anywhere near Maricruz. But if I didn't go talk to Maricruz while Blair was on my floor, Maricruz would assume it's because there's something going on between Blair and me.

As I sat in my office trying to work out my dilemma, Brandi walked in. Since she does so much work with Int'l Marketing, they moved her down here to. She welcomed me to the floor, we talked for a minute, then she cut me off and left the room. Like Melanie, I could tell she still thought I was suicidal and didn't want to linger too long for fear I might slit my wrists before she the conversation came to a natural end.

A moment later, Blair stood in my doorway with that ah-ha! look on her face. And then she walked away. Her work on my floor was done.

Wrong person, same outcome: Blair will be pissed at me for at least three days.

Well, at least I was able to go over and talk to Maricruz. I don't think she saw Blair's tits watching me today. And if she did, I don't think she cares anymore. I think she wants what she wants, and that's the end of that.

After a week of flashing me the fuck me look at work every day, Maricruz did not fuck me on Friday night. 

Not because she's a tease; it's because she does not like hot peppers. 

Maricruz is from El Salvador. I was under the impression everyone south of the border enjoyed spicy food, but apparently it's mainly the Mexicans.

I took Maricruz to a hole-in-the-wall authentic Mexican restaurant, not because she's Latina, but because it's really dark with secluded little spots where you can make out and not worry about unsightly public displays of affection.

It also prevents people from knowing exactly what they're eating, including extremely hot peppers.

Maricruz nearly went into cardiac arrest.

And it was just getting good. We had both had a couple of margaritas, while knees, thighs and feet were rubbing together comfortably. A perfectly dark and sketchy atmosphere for adulterous behavior...

Then she ate the hot pepper.

I didn't know eyes could get that wide. Not hers, but mine. She was coughing and wheezing and choking so badly, I thought it was heart failure. I thought I would have to perform some of that CPR shit I'd learned years ago in high school. I was trying to remember:

2 breaths and 15 pumps or was it 4 breaths and 10 pumps? Two fingers below the sternum or two fingers above? Or was that for the Heimlich?

We've got the animated version posted of the process on the board in the kitchen. 1 minute of my time is all it would take just to refresh my memory. Did I take a minute? No. Absolutely not.

She finally squeaked out: "I ate a pepper. It's too hot."

Huh? No cardiac arrest?

Her face was red, she was still coughing and choking, but I relaxed in my chair.

"I thought Latinos loved spicy food."

In all her pain and suffering, she managed to shoot me the familiar look I've seen a lot of people give Tefft for her racist remarks. 

Well, you learn something new every day.

Maricruz was done for the night. I did manage to get a kiss at her car. This was, at the very least, a show of good faith on her part despite the tragic events of the evening. She was not offended by my ignorance, but her body was still shaking from the jolt of the hot pepper. For her, it killed the moment and the evening.

Today Blair sent her spy Bendy Wendy to my floor. I call her that because I know several guys at work who have bent her over.

I later got an email from Blair that said, "I know you're trying to hook up with someone on your new floor."

If I react quickly, it's a sign I'm guilty. If I let it go too long, it's another sign I'm guilty. So I'll send a response at the end of day. Something flippant like: "I can't wait to hear this one..."

I wonder if one of her spies saw me out with Maricruz.

Impossible. Too dark at the restaurant. Dark outside when we left.

Well, I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow.

Maricruz was aloof most of the day. But she stopped by a few minutes ago to say hello and flash me that spectacular fuck me look. Round two this week...

The Rumor Mill is a powerful thing. It can destroy you in the corporate world. It can also be used to your advantage. 

Smithee sent an email today to Mulhausen with a little gossip about Faudeux. Here's what it said.

"Do you know a guy in Int'l Marketing named Faudeux? I was told he was the go-to guy for our global product development project. So I had a drink with him last night. He started bragging about having sex with all these women in the company, some of whom I know; they wouldn't have anything to do with this guy. I believe he's a compulsive liar, so I'm not comfortable working with him. Is there anyone else in Int'l Marketing with whom I can work?"

Mulhausen loves a good rumor. In fact, he spends about half his time in weekly Bible Study talking about all the sinners in the company. It's worse than a coffee clutch. I've been tracking the gossip all day, and as far as I can tell, this is the course it's taken:

Mulhausen told Fiona the Cunt, who told Fessler's Assistant, who told Fessler, who told Pangbourne, who told Osmund, who told Pengilly, who told Osaka, who told Kornfeld, who told Blair, who told me, though I didn't pass it on because I don't want this rumor tied to me in any way. Kornfeld also must have told Plotkin who told Wheels, who told me, though again, I didn't pass it on. Wheels also told Lucia, who told me. Lucia then told the Bible Study group who said it was old news since they already heard it from Mulhausen. Lucia then told Bertha, who is not anorexic, but Bertha told Lucia that it was old news too because she already heard it from Kornfeld. Frustrated, Lucia went to Creative and told Melanie who's on a completely different rumor track. Melanie had not heard this rumor and did not tell me because she is not talking to me because she still believes I'm suicidal. But she did tell Maricruz, who apparently is a friend.

Maricruz apologized to me today for believing her boss, who she now believes is a compulsive liar.

I told her she could make it up to me by having a drink with me after work. She said she would love to after she finishes a phone call with Asia/Pac at 6:30.

Poor Faudeux. Another victim of the dreaded Rumor Mill.

Well, gotta run. Time to see where that fuck me look takes me...

According to www.ubersite.com, a "Cock Block" is: 

The means at which one individual prevents the sexual conquest of another individual by word, action or motive and acts accordingly to prevent sexual intercourse between the fucker and the fuckee.

Maricruz works for a French-Canadian named Faudeux who happens to be both a dickhead and a major cock blocker. 

He has most likely tried and failed to dip his own pen into her company ink, and therefore now feels it his duty to also make every other man fail who attempts the same.

So as I was talking to Maricruz in her cube, Faudeux kept interrupting as if he needed to discuss business with her. I patiently waited until he ran out of fabricated business issues, then he went back to his office until he was able to fabricate more. He did this several times.

Faudeux is only a manager. However, he believes I'm a director because I have a couch in my office. Only directors get couches. I only have a couch because Emily the Facilities manager also believes I'm a director. She believes this because she counted my ceiling tiles in the last office I had, and since only directors have that many ceiling tiles, she assumed I must be a director. Ironically, I was moved out of my office because I had more ceiling tiles than I deserved because I am not a director.

Fortunately, the couch still moved with me.

I say "fortunately", because that is the exact location I was planning to fuck Maricruz. Unfortunately, I've been cock blocked by dickhead. 

The next time I stopped by to talk to Maricruz, I knew I had been fucked over immediately.

"Who's Blair?" she asked.

"Blair? Blair who?"

"I heard there was something going on between you two," she said.

That little French-Canadian cock-blocking fucker.

Well, a momentary delay. Nothing that can't be remedied.

I just need a plan. A cock blocker block plan.