The Crossdresser's Workplace Phrasebook.

Part 5

The following day we had the 'creative meeting', a weekly event in which the creative department ran out a series of their latest ideas for clients in front of us humble functionaries of the company.

In the creative meeting I'd counted no less than a dozen examples of phrases that as far as I could tell were entirely meaningless.

These were phrases tossed into conversation, or worse — campaigns — that had absolutely no coherent meaning. It was like listening to a Trump supporter.

"The client's downloaded this project to us," said Martin of one particular direct mail campaign.

I cut in, "You mean he's asked us to do it?"

Martin paused, all eyes in the meeting turning to me. "That's what I just said."

"Oh," I replied.

"We've got the bandwidth, right?" he went on.

Several people around the table nodded.

"We need more face time in the target market. If we're going to get onto the bleeding edge of this thing we're going to need to upsize and onboard some new talent," he went on.

I farted, then scowled at Brenda. People around the table followed my example and looked awkwardly at Brenda.

Martin glanced around the room, realising he was loosing his audience, and then continued. "We're putting together a helicopter view, and then once we've got our ducks in a row we'll ping the client and hammer it out."

I found myself wondering how you kill a duck with a hammer. A head shot? It seemed messy.

When the meeting had broken up I headed back to my office, Julie, my secretary (who I am not allowed to call a secretary), tagged along behind me. I slumped behind my desk, opened my laptop and started the serious work of the day.

"For God sake Julie," I said. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

I was struggling with my eye make up. The monitors in this office are great, but the color rendition is not 100% and using them as a make up mirror is less than perfect. I made a mental note to talk to the IT boys.

Julie closed my office door, meaning whatever she had to say would be serious.

"I need to ask you a question," she said, a worried look dancing across her face. In my role as office healer and moral officer I am compelled to notice these things. And I am an empathic person. Empathy is practically my middle name, as you are doubtless aware. I also consider Julie a friend, and so I am duty bound to hear her.

I kept doing what I was doing but said, "Go ahead."

"Well, it's kind of personal."

"That's ok, Julie. You know nothing said between you and I goes outside this office," I said. I'd probably post her comments on FionaDobson.com later that morning. Julie looked very serious.

"What do you think about dating in the office."

"I like it. I even keep a pillow in the desk draw. I usually lock the door and no one would know. This desk is a bit hard, but if you throw a yoga mat... Oh, that's not what you meant, is it."

"Not exactly," she said, her face reddening.

"It's fine," I said. "Just be discrete."

Honestly, some of these millennials take life a little too seriously. As Julie left my office my thoughts returned to the concept of a workplace phrasebook. How easy it is to misunderstand things.