>When one of the temps bursts into the break room and says, “Can I ask you a silly question?”
“I think you just did,” I said turning from the hypnotic spin of my pizza in the microwave.
Her head tilted to the side like the RCA dog. “You’re funny! How old are you?”
I felt my head start to tilt, but my right eyebrow went up instead, “32”
“You have an ad on Match.com don’t you?” She then goes on this tirade about her ex-boyfriend who has a profile on Match and warns me not to date him because he’s an asshole.
The whole time I’ve got this little voice screaming in my head “Shut up! How embarrassing! Good lord, I hope no one else hears this conversation!”
Temp said something about why she saw my ad, but the little voice was screaming too loud and my pizza had finished its nuke cycle. She paused for a breath, I thanked her for her concern and scurried back to the security of my desk.
It was like being inside a craigslist post.