My boss came up to me this morning to tell me that she had a dream about me. My immediate thought was, "Lady, you have a son my age!" -- but luckily it wasn't that kind of dream. She went on to explain that in the dream I was flying in from California, and everyone at work was coming to greet me at the airport. "How nice," I thought. "Aren't I popular." Not really -- they weren't coming to welcome me home, they were coming to yell at me. I generally don't make a trip all the way to the airport when I want to yell at someone but my co-workers apparently just couldn't wait.
The reason? According to the dream, I had fathered two children with two different women and everyone at work decided to storm the airport and let me have it. Right. After my boss and I had a good laugh (hers genuine, mine slightly worried), I had two thoughts: 1) How did she find out? and 2) Did her tye-dye wearing neighbor happen to stop by that day with some special brownies.
I don't know what you're supposed to think when your boss dreams of you having illicit relationships. I guess it's better to think nothing at all.
You see, I work in an environment overflowing with estrogen (with every employee in my department being a woman except me and the other designer) and one soon learns to ignore some of the wacky things that go on.
For example, the space right outside my cubicle has been officially designated the "girl talk" gathering place. When in this space, you are only allowed to discuss three things: hair, clothes, and shoes. You would think with such limited conversation topics, there wouldn't be much to say. But you would be horribly wrong. If given a chance, the women at my work would discuss these things for weeks at a time, without taking a breath.
For the most part, I try to tone it out, since why the heck should I care if so-and-so's shoes look so cute. But sometimes I pick up on amusing fragments like:
"Oh no! My hair almost fell out."
Then I laugh until one of them explains to me that she just got extensions and they don't always stay in or whatnot.
The point is that I've learned that stereotypes are often true, at least some of the time. I went through highschool with more female friends than male friends -- and I can't say we ever breached the topic of hair, clothes, or shoes, but perhaps they just avoided these subjects for my sake.
If so, then I have to say thank you. High school would have sucked if we spent all our time discussing heels rather than brooding or listening to Oingo Boingo, or whatever else the heck we did in high school.