You try to explain. You hope she understands. She was promoted to this position, so surely she must be senior/experienced enough to understand that all complaints are multi-faceted? She went to Wharton?! You watch her pick her ear with a biro. You realise you’re screwed.
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Everybody is gathered around you now. Your boss. Zoe from HR. Maria the Cleaner. The brown fellas from IT. Everybody. How did they get a day? “Come out! Come out!” they say. “It’s National Coming Out Day!” YOU. MUST. SUBMIT!
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You scream. You shout. “I’m not gay! I’m not gay!” We can only offer this promotion to a woman,” she says. “”Are you a woman?” It’s Friday afternoon.
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You think about the prospect of promotion and nod your head. You stare your boss in the eye. Finally, you feel that you are not fighting anymore. They offer you a seat in the pod. The marketing people offer a cake that wiggles and squirms in front of you.
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“I will not sit in a pod,” you type as your terrible terrible week throws you back into the repetition of last Monday. “I will not eat bugs!” you retweet as you find this 75+ plus twitter thread vaguely unsatisfying and see your media account dissolve and disappear forever.
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“I WILL NOT LIVE IN THE POD,” you shout! “I WILL NOT EAT BUGS!” @Follow
@bronzeagemantis... you type... I think that’s what I need to do... yes?” I’m sorry. I can’t help you. You’re sitting in the pod. You’re eating bugs. You tried hard... but YOU ARE GAY! You click retweetShow this thread -
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