Over the course of the last two weeks, I've written about sexual harassment in the workplace rather gleefully.
Guess that's what happens when you work for yourself - you romanticize what you don't have, the grass (or ass maybe?) is always greener, etc.
I was chatting with my friend Tarek about work and he asked the big question:
"Why don't you hire an assistant?"
I could only make excuses. I tried to explain that I don't want to hurt the feelings of my fictional assistant Darcelle. Even though she's practically illiterate and horrible at her job, she's awfully sensitive.
After more excuses and more enabling lies about Naomi, Darcelle, and LaDawna, I finally gave up defending my fictional staff:
"You know, I wish I had real assistants. I could stop sexually harassing myself."