Grounds For Harassment

Yesterday, I broke new ground for workers rights.

It occurred near the coffee machine where I did a little dance with a new employee. I was so preoccupied with the "KNOW YOUR RIGHTS" postings on the bulletin board that I did not notice her enter the break room, and she, deep in some frivolous diversion, stumbled into my personal space.

I followed perfect office etiquette by yielding to my right to avoid collision but this put her between me and the bulletin board.

I needed to get back to the board because I had yet to read the personal postings. I feel our office is a community and we are all obliged to take a few moments to stay abreast of things like who is selling motorcycles, giving away kittens or offering in-home Mary Kay Cosmetic consultations.

So I stepped around her.

Confused, she shifted to her left again, but her left is my right and as we all know traffic, whether on a road or aisle, must keep to the right. For a moment, we stutter stepped like NFL linebackers.

That's okay. It happens.

I was willing to forgive and forget and let her off with no more than a scowl, but she would not reciprocate. Instead of showing any contrition, she tossed back a perky tail of black hair, smiled and giggled an infectious laugh.

I was stricken.

In a workplace where everything is an affront, there is nothing more offensive than uninvited cheerfulness.

Melancholy takes time to build. It is not something one just does, rather it is achieved at the expense of considerable effort.

Studies at the DMV reveal it takes a civil servant more than an hour to achieve the high state of surliness required to deal with the public The same studies confirm that a single misguided smile from a well intentioned customer can render a clerk unable to service the public for an entire afternoon.

Perkiness is a form of harassment.

I explained all this to her and she exploded into mirth.

I rallied my office mates but they took her side, even to the point of guffawing and slapping each others backs.

My mood was utterly destroyed.

So I did what I had to do.

I telephoned our union lawyer, the same one who fought so diligently to secure our right to take a little time every day to review the bulletin board and appraised her of the situation.

She listened for a while in stone silence, then placing her hand over the mouthpiece took a few moments to confer privately with her colleagues.  When she came back on the line, she said she would get back to me.  I could tell by her upbeat, almost amused tone, that we have a heck of a case.

© Greg Schiller, 2008
Author: Greg Schiller