Monday, March 3, 2008

I was NOT pregnant. At least according to Mike.

Ahhhh...back to my "Tribute to Tiffarooni" Series.

I can still remember what Tiffany wore to her first day of work. She was like a ray of sunshine. All blond hair and spring colors amidst the drab blahness of our office. And? I was happy. I fought hard (okay, not that hard. Our boss was quite eager to steal her from our competitor property.) to have her considered for the position. And finally she was here. It was a slow day. I was hanging out in the manager's office, stuffing newsletters. She was assigned some asinine project for the new property. Bobby (remember he is the Assistant Manager) was doing Bobby like things, and Frat Boy Mike was no where to be found, as usual.

As the morning progressed, I told one story after another until eventually I got on to preggie stories. And Tiffany says, "Yeah. How'd that work out for you?" There was this glint in her eye. This smirk. And I knew! I pulled her across the hall, slamming my office door.

"You're pregnant!"

"Maybe." She smiled.

And then I started laughing. And jumping up and down.

"I AM TOO!" We hugged. We laughed. We wiped tears from our eyes. It was going to be perfect. Pregnant together. Two of us. In the same office. The office. The one where only four people work. Oh shit. Frat Boy Mike was going to be pissed. In nine months, they would be at half staff. On a new, very busy property. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Being pregnant was starting to sound like a bad idea.

"Okay, so who tells Mike first?"

I don't remember how we came to the conclusion that Tiffany was going to tell Frat Boy Mike first. I am not sure if we even decided exactly. I think perhaps Tiffany throwing up at the smell of cake in the work room might have given her away. Frat Boy Mike was stupid, but not that stupid. I mean really, who else vomits at the thought of yummy, yummy Marble Slab ice cream cake? He was on to her.

"I guess I have to tell him."

"Yeah. I don't think we can hide it anymore." I sighed. It was going to be a bad day. When Frat Boy Mike got pissed, he retaliated with making us scrub the floors or clean the bathrooms even though we had a full-time cleaning staff.

"Wish me luck." And with that, Tiffany walked into Mike's office.

She looked scarred when she emerged. It had been bad. Really bad. Frat Boy Mike was on the war path.

"Okay. I told him. Now it is your turn."

I looked at her. So stoic. So brave. And I knew that telling him would be so much worse for me. It would be hard. But at the same time, it would mean Tiffany was not alone. She needed me to tell him. She needed us to share the burden of this. She looked at me with hope.

I took a deep breath. She was watching me carefully. "Well?"

I looked her right in the eye. "Bitch, you're fucking crazy. I am NOT telling him I am pregnant. My ass did not throw up in the work room. He knows nothing about me. And as long as he knows nothing, then there is nothing for me to tell. That's my story and I am sticking to it."

With that, I turned and walked away. I don't know who was more shocked. Tiffany when I told her I wasn't going to tell him. Or Mike when, six months later, he got the email with the pictures of Emmi.

2 comments:

Erin and Liann said...

LMAO!!!.... WOW... He must be pretty dense to not notice you pregnant. Especially with an example of beautiful pregnancy sitting right in front of him (AKA Tif). I'm a brown nose, lick it off!...

-Lee

Tiffany said...

You little beeeeyotch! I actually love this story!