You might think
that the amount of hanky-panky in the workplace varies inversely with level of
pay. Why would an exec making $300,000 a
year risk his cushy job for lobby tush?
But walk onto a floor where the rank-and-filers are bringing down eight
bucks an hour, and it’s a veritable orgy:
“Candace! Get off Bobby and make a call.” In other words, the stakes are lower, as are
the standards.
Another school of
thought says the 300K folks have plenty of power, which naturally attracts
partners, and in the event of “he said/ she said,” they can strongarm
plaintiffs. Meanwhile, the wage slaves,
particularly during tough times, typically have to work about three part-time jobs,
so they barely have the energy to chew their food, let alone work up some
effective flirting banter.
At any rate, I
tend to do better with women at work than in other contexts. Perhaps it’s because they see me there, so
they’re pretty sure I have a job. I
enjoy being at work. It’s the doing of
the work that gets old.
That puts me in
the mind of Maureen Dowd’s book, Are Men
Necessary? If you asked the head of
PETA that question, she’d probably say, “Men?!
Hell, are humans necessary?” But
even without self-absorbed humans wreaking havoc, I suppose this planet would
still witness plenty of suffering.
‘Course the economy wouldn’t be as good.
Probably knock a few points off GDP.
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