A guest post by by Candice Bundy (Felt Tips – Open Rack)
Many thanks to Vagina Antics for hosting me today, it’s wonderful to drop by. I’m continuing with the Geek-as-the-new-sexy theme R. Brennan started earlier this week. As she mentioned, we’re both long-time IT professionals, and both of our Felt Tips stories feature geeks in um, compromising, situations in the workplace. If you want to know more, you’ll need to read the anthology.
The clever woman also pointed out all of the dating benefits you’ll have with geek partners, because she’s sweet and wants to hook you up, so make sure to check out her post’s tips. However, now that she’s established how wonderfully datable geeks are, I need to point out something about geeks you may not have considered.
Geeks have an all access pass. (Yes, in case you’re wondering, this theme plays into both R. Brennan and my short stories in Felt Tips.)
That’s right, we hold the keys, or more accurately in today’s offices, the card keys. All those rooms, those hidden spaces, we have control. Be they storage supply closets, records rooms, copier stations, executive washrooms, server rooms–you name it. If it’s locked up, during business hours or after, our card keys will do the trick. We can disappear for hours at a stretch and no one even bats an eyelash.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spent working late nights, behind a locked door–slaving away over some mission-critical project in a noisy server room doing installs or configurations. Usually no one even knew I was there. They couldn’t hear me, couldn’t see me.
There were nights I’d order in Chinese or pizza. I came to view the oft-times chilly server room as quiet retreat, buffered from the outside world, where I could work in relative peace and quiet. Which is why I’d blast my music at top volume and dance away while the servers were busy churning away. I’d keep an eye on them, get back to the install when prompted, and then return to my groove.
Until one day, a coworker walked in on my spinning and gyrating self. I, absorbed by the music, didn’t even hear him enter the room, until I glanced up and watched him laughing at me. Now, he was a nice guy, very sweet, and he didn’t give me a hard time about it afterwards. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. (Of course here I am, spilling the beans now!) He was one of our accounting contractors, so his hours were even more erratic than mine. What he told me that night set wheels in motion in my head.
He said, “Don’t worry. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve walked in on.” Then he got right to work.
My mind reeled with the potentials. What *had* he walked in on–it sounded like multiple episodes–over the years? I wondered then how my co-workers worked off steam after hours? Were they, quite literally, handling things on their own, or did secret liaisons exist behind closed doors? If so, how often?
Curiosity burned, but he’d closed the topic to discussion, so I never found out. Since then, however, I’ve learned to pay attention. I watch for clothes straightened at the last minute, makeup reapplied late at night, tousled hair, and flushed cheeks. The classic: muffled moans behind closed doors. (No, seriously, I’ve been there, heard that myself. That couple was infamous. They even had the, um, balls to use the boss’s desk once!)
Those ‘selfless, hard working co-workers’ who stay late every night? Yeah, them. The majority are working late hours. The others…well, find out for yourself!
And be kind to your IT professionals. Those datable sweethearts can get you into any room in the building. You never know when you might desire a little privacy.
Candice lives in Centennial, Colorado with her husband, son, and her pathetically stupid but therefore very sweet cat, Maia. Candice loves to make wine and mead and is a professional hedonist, rabble-rouser, and goat-herder. She adore archaeology and all things Greek/Roman, so if you send her fan mail, please send it on cuneiform tablets, papyrus, or traditional vellum.