At least there’s no longer that niggling hindrance which requires me to individually track how much each employee of the company I work at knows about my personal life. Adam’s either a ‘flatmate’ or a ‘manfuck’, depending on how much the person involved knows.
However, at some post-works drinks last week, one random staff member playfully grabbed another staff member’s arse, then quickly turned away, leaving the arse-grabee in question confounded as to who performed this motion.
‘Was that you?’ he demanded of the girl next to me.
‘No,’ she honestly replied, inasmuch as demonstrating an exception to the definition of honesty.
‘Oh!’ he laughed. ‘It was you,’ he pointed at me. ‘Well, I’d expect that. Ha ha ha!’
Which was when my eyes widened and I realised that far more people know about me at work than I’d realised – which is fine. Makes things far easier.
‘Sometimes I grab my own arse out of sheer confusion,’ I responded, a little embarrassed at the sudden realisation. ‘Umm. How did you find out about me? I thought nobody knew.’
‘Marketing,’ he winked at me.
Which sits in line with every other company I’ve worked for, really: once marketing knows, everyone knows.